Killing Loneliness
by Special K the Great
Summary: Two lives change when she literaly stumbles into his life, dumping his Pepsi in the process. A Punk/OC fic
1. Chapter 1

Hello. Please be kind. This is the first time I'm venturing into WWE fanfiction. Let me know what you think.

BTW, there is a pull on my profile that will decide an arguement later in the story. Coke or Pepsi. Go vote for the God Drink.

**Killing Loneliness**

Jennifer had never dreamed her life would have this much excitement, or be this extraordinary, but here she was at the biggest stage of them all. She may not have been fighting, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to make an appearance none-the-less.

"Hey," a slightly raspy voice whispered as two strong, tattooed arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her against an equally strong chest. She smiled wider, knowing instantly who those arms as familiar to her as her own belonged to. "You seem giddy."

"I can't be excited?" she teased. "It is _your_ big night, isn't it?"

The man holding her kissed the top of her head rather than answer her. One of his hands slipped under the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing (it was one of his older shirts) and his fingers spread intimately over the skin of her abdomen. She giggled, "Your hands are cold," but she didn't do anything to discourage his actions.

The last eight months had been surreal…and he was a big part of it. Everyday she thanked her lucky stars that they had stumbled into each other's lives. He may not believe in luck, but sometimes fate was unavoidable. After all, if there was no such thing as luck or fate, then what reason could he possibly have had to have been at the bar that night?

_Eight months earlier__…_

Jennifer McCorvik was pretty, but not exceptionally. She looked…approachable, and that was part of the reason she was popular with the customers. It got rather irritating, and more than once the bouncer, Andy Reynolds (hired because the neighborhood wasn't in the best part of town), had to discourage patrons from harassing her.

"Jenna!" came the exasperated shout of Nicole, her co-worker and one of her closest friends.

"Back here! One of the regulars split his drink on me!" she called back, trying to find another shirt—any shirt—in the backroom. She wasn't having much luck. It seemed her life had been that way lately.

"Well hurry up! We got a big group coming in! Alex just said they called ahead requesting enough tables for at least ten!"

"You're not serious!" she called back. It was a Tuesday, for crying out loud! The bar was not supposed to be this busy on a Tuesday.

"I wish! You, me, and Angie have their tables!" The ash blonde appeared in the doorway with an anxious look on her face. "Oh shit, you are soaked, Honey Girl." With that statement made, she rushed in and tried to help Jennifer clean up as best as she could. "I think the best was can do right now is tie back your shirt," she advised since most of the spill, thankfully was over her belly and not her breasts. "Thankfully yours are two sizes bigger than you need," she continued as she knotted it in the back, causing a little skin of her lower back to show. Most of the wet area disappeared in the folds of the fabric.

"Thanks" Jennifer smiled. She nervously brushed her bangs back out of her eyes, but unfortunately they weren't long enough to tuck behind her ear. She was always a little uncomfortable showing off too much skin at work considering the type of guys that usually came in. Ordinarily it wouldn't have bothered her.

"No problem. Come on," Nicole demanded.

The two young women rushed out of the storeroom. The bartender, Alex Guiro, owner of the establishment, glanced up between drinks as they hurriedly grabbed order pads and pencils. Nicole, his long time girlfriend, glanced up and gave him a little smile to let him know they were ready.

Just as Nicole and Jennifer came out, the doors opened and in walked a crowd of overly muscular tough guys and overly made-up women. Jennifer winced. She hated this kind of customer most because they often thought they were God's Gift to Women. That, and they tended to get grabby when they had a few drinks in them.

Putting on her best fake smile, Jennifer stepped forward to greet them.

"Party McMahon?" Nicole asked, her smile equally as charming.

Jennifer didn't know where to begin. There were at least a dozen people in the group, and probably more.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! I am back with the second chapter. Don't forget to vote for the god drink (Coke or Pepsi) as it will decide an argument later in the story!

**Killing Loneliness**

About an hour later Jennifer was performing a daunting balancing act with two trays full of drinks in three-inch heels. The group was going through drinks like fish through water. She, Nicole, and Angie were at wits end trying to take care of the McMahon party and the rest of the bar. Worse yet, her feet hurt and her ankle felt like it was going to snap.

Mechanically she distributed the drinks and collected the empty glasses as she turned down a pass from one of the drunkest of the lot. (His long hair dyed multiple colors did make her take a double look, though.) She almost pitied the boys washing dishes, but at this point she was too tired to feel bad for anyone.

Finally she had one drink left—a Pepsi. That had struck her as odd since next to no-one ordered anything without alcohol at a bar. She passed it off as being a designated driver thing. Now who had ordered the Pepsi?

She took a step forward, and the worst thing that could possibly happen occurred. The heel of her shoe snapped as she stepped down and she went down tumbling with a scream. The soda still on the tray went flying…right into the lap of a dark haired man with a lip ring and both arms full of tattoos. His face contracted into confusion and shock.

Jennifer blanched as the whole group quieted. Her ankle was in agony—she was certain she had at least sprained it—and a feeling of dread overtook her. "Oh, God! I'm so, so sorry!"

At first she though he was going to yell, but then he started to laugh.

Nicole took the opportunity to help her up and help her hopple away to the back. Jennifer hissed as her ankle took some of her weight. "I can't believe that just happened," she muttered.

Nicole responded soothingly, "You're okay. It happens to everyone at some point."

"She okay?" Alex demanded as he came into the storeroom in a rush, having seen what had happened. He helped Nicole help Jennifer sit down and immediately checked her ankle.

"Ouch!" she yelped as he touched a particularly tender spot.

"Sorry, Jen," he mumbled as he continued to prod her ankle to make sure it wasn't broken. "Good news; I think it's gonna heal 'fore ya get married," he joked. "Nikki, git 'er some ice."

Nicole had already gone for some.

"Who's at the bar?" Jennifer asked, feeling guilty she had taken Alex from his post.

"Rick," Alex answered. Rick, thankfully, had come in almost two hours early.

"I'm really, really sorry, Alex," she sighed.

"Relax. It's not'cher fault. Andy 'ill take care of 'im if he starts shit."

Nicole came back in with a bag of ice wrapped in an old wash towel. She gently pressed it against her friend's ankle with a little frown on her face.

The thick, wiry, and black-haired head of Angie appeared in the doorway. "Jenna, that guy you doused wants to talk to ya. Should I tell him to get lost?"

"Damn right ya should," Alex answered, not bothering to consider. He was protective of his employees, and often time he had to deal with whackos trying to pick shit.

Angie disappeared but came back a moment later. "He says he ain't mad. He says he just wants to make sure you're okay."

"Alright," Jennifer answered softly, figuring she at least owed him that. "I'll be okay, Alex. Andy's been showing me some more stuff, and you'll be right outside."

He still frowned. "Aw'ight. But if he tries somethin' just shout and we'll put 'em straight," he answered, his accent getting thicker as his displeasure grew. He got back to his feet. Angie had already went back to fetch the victim of Jennifer's fall. A stern look settled over his features as he headed back to the bar.

Nicole put a comforting hand on her friend's knee. "Sorry, Hun, but I gotta get back to the floor."

"I'll be fine," she answered, taking the ice pack and holding it against her own ankle.

As she answered Angie appeared back in the doorway with the man behind her. He was at least a foot taller than the five-foot-in-heels Angie and he looked like a real punk with his arms full of tattoos and his peircings, but the amused grin on his face detracted from the intimidation factor. Nicole still sent him a look that said, "I will kill you if you even think about trying anything," as she passed him.

Angie hovered for a moment and stalled her departure by saying, "Well, play nicely. And you keep off that ankle."

The guy took one of the empty kegs and used it as a seat. "You okay?" he asked, his voice deep and sure as well as a little husky.

Jennifer smiled tentatively and blushed, clearly embarrassed. "I'll live. Look, I'm really, really sorry—"

"Don't worry about it. I've had worse things dumped on me. It sure the hell beats being covered in engine oil. That's a bitch to get out of hair." She could see as he spoke he had a bar through his tongue. His lips were pulled into a crooked gin and his white teeth showed. His eyes crinkled a bit as he smiled. Over all, he was rather good-looking, but she knew enough to know that meant nothing.

Still, she had to laugh at his assessment.

"I'm Phil. Most people call me Punk. I kind of prefer that," he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

"Jennifer. Everyone calls me either Jen or Jenna," she returned, extending her own hand. He had a very firm, steady grip. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't unsure. She curled her leg and injured ankle closer to her body, wincing as she did so. Of course, Punk saw it.

"Let me see," he requested.

"What?"

"Your ankle. Let me see it," he repeated.

The question still in her eyes, Jennifer removed the icepack and hesitantly stretched her leg towards him. Alex had removed her shoe earlier, so that was not an issue. Gently, he adjusted so that her ankle rested over his lap. "This will feel better, I promise," he told her and his fingers carefully massaged the tender joint. Across his knuckles of both hands read "DRUG FREE." Good to know.

Amazingly, it did feel better. It didn't hurt as much. She doubted she would be able to put weight on it yet, but at least now it wasn't so agonizing.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, confusion thick in her voice.

"I can't just be nice?" he glanced up and continued his charming smile.

"No," she answered. "Guys aren't nice just to be nice. You all want something. So what is it you want from me?" she demanded.

Punk shrugged. "Nothing." Still, he continued gently rubbing her ankle.

This was territory to Jennifer. She didn't quite know what the exact procedure was when receiving basically a foot rub from a total stranger…even if he was cute. She bite her lip nervously and cleared her throat. "I don't believe you."

"Then don't, but it's the truth."

A quiet descended over them. Jennifer watched him closely. Eventually he said, "All right, maybe I'm glad you dumped my Pepsi. Gave me a chance to talk to you."

"Huh?" she blinked.

"I don't know. There's something about you. I don't exactly do this kind of thing…ever…but if I gave you my cell number, would you consider calling me at some point in the near future?" he asked.

"I don't do one night stands anymore."

"No," he answered flatly. "I don't do that kind of thing either. Straightedge."

"Oh," was all she could say to that. Growing up one of her sister's close friends—a boy a few years her elder—had been into that movement. She had lost contact with him after he went and joined the military, but he had been cool. He was always beating up the guys that would give her a hard time. He was also always there to pick up the pieces of her messes. From what she remembered, straightedge policy was, "No Drugs. No Booze. No Casual Sex." The tattoo across Punk's knuckles made more sense.

He turned her ankle slightly, and so he saw the tiny hand print forever inked on the inside side of where her ankle and leg met. "That had to hurt," he commented. "Over the bone always sucks."

Her stomach sunk. She hated it when people asked about that tattoo. It was very personal, and there was no way in hell she was going to rip open all the old wounds and tell a total stranger about it. Not again. Not ever.

"Can I have my foot back now?" she asked softly.

He grin turned apologetic as he released her. "So, will you? Maybe we could go out for lunch or something while I'm still in town. If you—"

"Okay," she answered, surprising herself. Normally she didn't except dates from guys she had just met (Ever. In fact, her last date was over two years ago before Nicole held an intervention), but already in less than ten minutes he had out-shone everyone else she had ever dated...then again, it wasn't too hard to outshine them. "Punk, you said, right?"

"Yea. It's Jen, isn't it?" he teased right back.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again. I return. Umm...i should probaply warn you that there is some bad language here, but the guys are (mostly) drunk. What do you expect? There is a moment in here inspired by a video on youtube titled **"CM Punk and the Invisible Microphone" by GonzoMatic**. Go watch it. It's...halarious.

Also, go vote for the God Drink! Only you have the power to choose! So far it is 3:2 in favor of Coke! Pepsi, fight back! Coke, dominate!

**Killing Loneliness**

Less than ten minutes later Alex came back. He glared at Punk when he noticed he had a hand on Jennifer's knee. "I think it's time ya left," he commanded sternly, his accent still strong. He glanced at Jennifer as he said, "Jenna, Nicole's gonna take ya back home, kay?"

"Thanks, Alex," she smiled. "Are you sure you don't need her still? I can wait until the end of the shift."

"I won't hear notin' 'bout that, Missy," he smiled. "Angie n' the rest of 'em will handle it. You n' Nicole get home safe now," he added.

"Tomorrow's still okay?" Punk asked as he got back to his feet.

"Yea," Jennifer answered, still sitting. She felt a lot better know, and a big smile was on her face. Somehow he had managed to convince her to let him take her out to lunch. "I'll call you in the morning."

He grinned and waved as he walked out of the back, Alex's glare still burning a hole in his back. Still, Phil Brooks, better know as C.M. Punk, would not be brought down. He smirked. This was just ironic. On one of his blogs from when he was still on ECW, he had mentioned getting a "Jennifer's number" and his girlfriend at the time being pissed. Well, now he had a Jennifer's phone number, but no girlfriend to be pissed at him. Oh, merciful irony.

"YO! PUNK!" a drunk Jeff Hardy yelled overly loudly in his typical Southern drawl when he saw the missing man reappear. He stumbled away from the table he and a few others had taken over on shaky legs with a big grin on his face. His eyes were slightly unfocused. He definitely would be swearing off alcohol for at least a week after he would wake up the next morning with a hangover. "Where you go?"

Calmly, and with the air that this was not the first time he had done this, he guided Jeff back to the table where several members of the three brands sat. Cross brand specials and pay-per-views were few, but everyone took advantage of the time to hang out with friends they didn't often see. He got Jeff back into his seat and took the one next to him. A much less inebriated Randy Orton glanced at him as he sat down.

"Didn't have a washroom or what?" Orton asked, laughing at the memory of Punk's face when that waitress had fallen and soaked him in his own drink. His shirt was still soaked in the cola.

"Didn't look," Punk answered with his crooked grin. "Other things were more important."

"Common man!" Jeff shouted, not realizing he didn't have to shout for Punk to hear. "What ya doin'?" The proverbial light bulb could be seen going off above his head as something flashed across his devious little mind. "That girl—dumped your Pepsi—she hot?"

"Her friends would eat you if you tried anything."

"Kinky," commented Cody Runnels, better known as Cody Rhodes, from his place across the table. His best friend, Ted DiBiase, snickered at the remark.

Punk leaned over the table and play smacked him softly. "Behave," he ordered. "I don't want to get banned from a bar—again—because of your idiocy."

"Oh, come on. You don't even drink. Why should you care? Besides, just because you haven't been laid since the dark ages doesn't mean the rest of us are so repressed!"

"I don't kiss and tell," Punk responded.

"Yea, can't tell if ya don't kiss!" joked Adam Copeland, or Edge to the rest of the world. He was nursing a beer, but that was the only beer he would be having. He had had the misfortune to draw one of the short straws that decided designated drivers. Punk was stuck being one automatically. The troop of guys he was supposed to drive would most likely end up dumped in the coach and on the floors of his apartment since they were still in Chicago. Lockport wasn't too far away.

"Adam, don't make me force feed you my knee," Punk laughed.

"Relax, man. What is it they use to say about you when you were still doing that ROH crap… 'He won't take drugs, but he might take your girlfriend.'" Adam's statement was met with a loud whoop of laughter.

"Man, you could get more pussy than the rest of us combined if you tried!" Cody added.

Punk just shrugged. Women liked him. He liked women. He didn't mess around with them, but a little flirting never hurt anyone. "You fucking morons," he muttered, taking a sip of his drink which had been refilled and delivered by the waitress who took him back to see Jennifer.

Cody and Jeff looked at each other before screeching, "You dumb bitch! I'm not holding a microphone! Are you fucking stupid?" They nearly fell out of their chairs laughing. Punk had to smirk at them. He remembered that moment well…aw, the days when he could be bad-ass. He made Edge look like a pussy. Speaking of those days...since when did Jeff Hardy and Cody Rhodes go running around watching his old promos?

As the bunch were joking around, he saw one of the waitresses helping Jen hobble out of the back room. He assumed that was Nicole, the person the bartender told Jen would be taking her home.

"What are you horn-dogs doing?" asked the cool voice of Melina as she came over to investigate the noise with Maryse.

"Excuse me," he muttered before getting up, completely ignoring the diva's demand.

"Where is he going?" Maryse questioned as he walked towards the two women.

"That's the girl that dumped his drink," Randy observed as Punk reached the two. The group of semi-intoxicated (and totally trashed) superstars watched in interest as Punk took the waitress with the injured ankle from the ash-blonde woman and picked her up carefully bridal-style before carrying her out the front door.

"Awe," the two women gushed.

"Punk really is a sweetheart," Melina commented, and then slapped John Hennigan (the former Jonny Nitro-turned John Morrison and her long-time boyfriend) who was sitting at the table next to theirs. "Why can't you be that fucking sweet to me, huh?"

"Ow!" he whined to Mike Mizanin, The Miz.

"Why do I get the feeling we're going to see this chick a lot more?" Cody asked rhetorically.

"Who cares? She's hot," Jeff pointed out, still giggling.

"I think Punk's already staked a claim there, Jeffy-boy," Randy smirked.


	4. Chapter 4

The vote is now 3:3! It cannot end in a tie. Go vote for the God Drink!

Also, I haven't been feeling well lately (again), so I might be a little slow updating this. I appoligize, but I can't type if I'm busy being sick.

By the way, what do you think of Jen? How about Nicole?

**Killing Loneliness**

To call or not to call? It wasn't a question of "could she call?" like it normally was. In fact, she had close to two hundred minutes on her phone (about one hundred ninety-nine more than she normally had on it). All she had to do was press the little green call button. It was simple. That guy last night—Phil—was really sweet. He even carried her out to Nicole's car. He wanted to take her out to lunch…like that would be such a hardship to ender. What harm could it do? Making up her mind, she pressed the button.

It rang a few time before he answered. "Hey. Punk here."

"Hi. It's Jen. Still want to take me to lunch?" she asked, trying not to sound too eager. She had left the high school era of her life years ago, and she did not plan to return to it.

"Yea. Um, I'm just finishing up at the gym. Give me like an hour to finish here and get cleaned up and I'll call you again, okay?"

"That's fine," Jen answer. "Talk to you soon then I guess."

"Yea, soon," he agreed before disconnecting.

Jen set down her phone beside her on the bed and smiled. Well, she did have an hour. There were a wide plethora of things she could do to pass the time. Looking down at her bare toe nails gave her an idea. She retched over to her bedside table and grabbed her little bottle of night black nail polish.

About twenty minutes and two coats of polish later, Nicole poked her head through the open door of Jen's room, shielding her nose with her hand.

"Eww. I thought I smelt nail polish," she remarked, sticking out her tongue. She was never the biggest fan of that smell, yet she never refused doing Jen's nails for her. Sometimes Nicole made no sense…then again, Jen knew she did some pretty senseless things.

Jen wiggled her now black crowned toes. Her ankle was wrapped tight in a pressure bandage. Thanks to a combination of an icepack and Tylenol, it wasn't causing her anything more than mild discomfort. "Sorry. I just felt like it."

"At least you don't go and get a tattoo or piercing every time you feel like it," Nicole answered back.

"I'm not that girl anymore."

"And we're all glad you aren't," Nicole continued, coming farther into her room and joining Jen on her bed. "Want me to do your fingernails?" she offered (just like Jen knew she would), picking up the bottle of polish.

"Sure," Jen answered, "but let's do these red and then tip them black."

"All right, Princess."

Jen was content to sit quietly as Nicole started painting her nails a dark shade of crimson. The black nail polish set beside her waiting for the red coat to dry.

Once Nicole started with the black polish, Jen asked, "Are you going out with Alex today?"

Nicole looked at her suspiciously. "Why?"

"I'm going to lunch with someone?"Jen answered, but it sounded more like a question.

"Who?"

"Phil—he carried me to the car last night," she offered when Nicole gave her a look of un-recognition. "He asked me to go to lunch with him.

Nicole narrowed her pale eyes. "I don't like it."

"It's a good thing I'm not asking for permission. I love you, Nicole, but you're no Bambi," Jen answered.

"Maybe not, but you need someone to watch out for you, Kid, especially since Bambi is still stuck in Philly," Nicole said teasingly.

Before Jen could respond to Nicole's remark, her phone rang, blasting the chorus of Fully Alive by Flyleaf from the little speaker. Since she assigned ringtones to most of the people in her contacts (mostly so she knew if she should bother to answer her phone and waste what little precious minutes she had) she normally knew who was calling before she even checked caller ID, but Fully Alive was her default ringtone. Whoever was calling was either someone she didn't know or someone she rarely talked to.

Retching with her free hand that Nicole had finished with, Jen grabbed her phone off the pillow next to her. She glanced at the screen to see who was calling before answering. Displayed on the little screen was, "Punk," just as she had hoped.

"Hey," she answered. "I was wondering when you would call." Nicole observed her carefully as she added the strip of black to the edge of her left ring finger.

"Just finished getting cleaned up," he answered. "I ended up doing more thinking about where to take you for lunch than actually working out," he added, the grin audible in his voice.

"Really? So where did you decide?"

"I'm kinda in the mood for pizza. You mind?"

"Pizza is good," she answered. And in my price range, she added silently. Nicole's eyebrow raised. Pizza? She shook her head before finishing Jen's little finger and fanned her nails so the paint would dry.

"Then I am taking you for pizza. Where should I pick you up?"

Jen gave him the address of her and Nicole's apartment. When she asked if he needed directions from anywhere, he said, "I'll be fine. I grew up in Chicago; I know my way around."

"Okay then. See you soon?"

"Half hour tops."

"Okay. Half hour. Bye then," she affirmed.

"Bye."

Nicole asked doubtfully as she set down the phone, "Pizza?"

"It's not like we're going on a date. I don't even know him."

"Just be careful, okay? I don't want you getting hurt by a lousy punk," she cautioned. She could remember with clarity what happened last time Jennifer got too serious with a guy too soon. Hell, some pieces of her heart were still laying shattered somewhere and were too raw to put back together.

"I'm being careful. I promise," she said, mostly to appease Nicole. "I'm not about to let another guy hurt me like Corey did."

As it turned out Nicole was going with Alex to visit his parents, and then right to the bar and back to work. Alex had more or less given Jennifer the next three days off to "recuperate."

She did not appreciate the babying.

Still, Nicole managed to stall her leaving to meet her boyfriend long enough to wait for Punk to get to the apartment. She sat in the kitchen area (visible from the front door) at the table, sharpening the knives. They were _dull _after all. Jen gave her a look that said, "Must you, really?"

Of course it was then that someone knocked at the door. Jen answered it and was not surprised to see Punk standing on the mat.

"Hi," she smiled.

"Hey," he answered. "You ready to go?"

"Yea, just let me grab my purse." The bag in question was setting on the couch and it took only three seconds to grab. Those three seconds were still plenty long enough for Punk to see the ash blonde woman from last night sharpening a wickedly thin and very pointy knife.

"Okay, I'm ready," Jen said with a smile. "See ya, Nikki. Have fun with Alex."

"You have fun, too," she called back pleasantly, glaring coldly at Punk.

When the door closed and they were a few feet down the hall, Punk couldn't help saying, "I think you're friend might hate me."

"She doesn't…she's just…a little protective," she supplied with a shrug, sounding lame even to herself.

"So she normally sharpens fillet knives before you go out with guys?" he asked with his grin…that crocked grin. One of his eyebrows was raised inquiringly.

"That's just Nicole," she said as if that explained everything.

"How's the ankle?" he asked as they got closer to the elevator. It was only a three-floor building, but moving furniture the size of beds would not be fun on stairs.

"Better. Alex is convinced that I shall heal before I must walk down the isle to domestic slavery," she responded, gaining a laugh from him, "so I should have a lot of time to heal."

"Good news then," he commented, pressing the call button for the elevator.

Over an hour and a half later, despite having finished their pizza, Jennifer and Punk were still sitting in their booth just talking. At first, it had been a little awkward since there was a thin line between a date and just hanging out, and neither of them was quite certain which side of it they were on. Then Punk cracked a joke about something and it spiraled from there.

"You from Chicago?"

"No. Philly, actually. I moved here with Nicole when I was nineteen. I had had enough of Philadelphia," she answered, carefully not to say more than she had to. He didn't need to know why she really left. "I like it here."

"She your sister?" he asked.

"Nooooo," she laughed. "What about you? Any really cute brothers?" she joked.

He pouted at her, causing her to laugh. "At least I can say you're not with me for my looks."

"Okay then, any less-cute brothers?"

"Yea, but I haven't talked to him in a really long time."

"Why not?"

"We don't exactly see eye-to-eye. He embezzled a lot of money from a thing we had started together, and I haven't been able to forgive him."

"I don't know how you do it," she answered honestly, stirring her coke with her straw (much to Punk's displeasure, the little restaurant only carried Coca-Cola products). "I'd go nuts if I couldn't talk to Bambi."

"Bambi?" he asked, his eyebrow again raised.

"She's my sister. She's still in Philly. I miss her a lot. She's kind of like my mom, actually."

"You're going to have to explain that one."

"It's a long story."

"And I have an apartment full of hung-over idiots I'd rather not go back to," he answered. "We got time."

"Okay," Jen answered. Slowly she started, "She's older than me by like twelve years. My parents weren't exactly the poster children for domestic bliss. It was on again—off again continuously, but they never got a divorce. My real mother was nineteen when Bambi was born. Dad was twenty-three. Anyway, when I was five, she bailed. She just had enough I guess. Left us for her boss—he was nearly eighty and had a grandkid older than her. Well, Dad was devastated. He had really loved the bitch, you know?" she asked him, anger and tears in her tone. Punk reached across the table in took her hand in his own, offering her support.

"Dad had been sick for a while, but we didn't know how bad. Cancer," she added, glancing up. "I don't know how he made it so long. It was another two years before he died. Bambi was forced to really grow up and take care of me since Dad couldn't. She was seventeen when Mom left. Once Dad died, Mom came back to try her hand at "Parent of the Year" with the money she was willed once her boss died. I don't know how Bambi did it, but she got the court to name her my guardian instead of Mom. Thankfully," she finished.

"Shit," was all he could say.

"Yea. Dysfunctional families. Aren't they the best?" she asked sarcastically.

"My dad was an alcoholic. My childhood kinda sucked too. I remember mostly him coming home to drink, screaming at Mom, and the fights. He hit me a couple of times. He sobered up once I grew up, but…" he trailed off. "I read somewhere alcoholism can be hereditary, so I gave it up entirely. I never want to have to deal with that in my life."

Jen raised her glass of coke. He looked at her questioningly, finding her behavior odd after such an emotionally deep moment.

"To sucky childhoods," she offered.

"I'll drink to that," he laughed, raising his own (gross, disgusting, vomit-inducing, what-would-he-have-to-do-to-get-some-Pepsi-around-here?) glass and clinked it against hers.


	5. Chapter 5

Pepsi is now in the lead 6:3. Supporters of my coke, where are you?

Anyway, I am still sick, and since I have nothing better to do, I typed this up. Enjoy.

**Killing Loneliness**

To be perfectly honest, Jennifer didn't think about Punk often for a few weeks after their little lunch date. Sure, he was a sweet guy who happened to be very cute, but guys weren't high on her priority list. They didn't even break the top ten…pay the rent, call Bambi, bug Nicole into letting her be maid of honor in her eventual wedding (once she and Alex set the blasted date), save money for new pair of heels to wear to said wedding, buy more AA batteries because there were never enough in the apartment…that stuff was on the list. No where on it were there boys…at least not any more. A few years ago it would have been a different story…a very different story. A few years ago, all she would have been thinking about would have been him.

On occasion she would wonder what he was doing, or where he was, or why he didn't call. Sometimes when she was bored she'd daydream about their "Not-a-date" and wonder what a real date would be like with him. Then she would mentally hit her head against a wall because high school ended half a decade ago.

Three weeks after their lunch, around four in the afternoon, her cell phone (which actually had minutes on it…well, about fifty minutes…maybe) started ringing. Hearing "Fully Alive" play, she checked the caller ID before answering.

Nicole immediately asked, "Who is it?"

A smile broke across Jen's face as she pressed the answer key. "Hello?" she asked, surprised that he was calling. She hadn't heard from him in three weeks, so it was needless to say she wondered why he would be calling now.

"Hey, Jenna. It's Punk. You know, that really cute guy you went out with for lunch."

"I don't recall any really cute guys," she teased.

"Okay, fine. It's Punk. You know, that total loser you dumped the Pepsi on," he tried again, getting her to laugh. "You remember me?"

"Yea, I remember you," she smile wider, her voice reflecting her amusement.

Nicole mouthed at her from the other end of the couch, 'who is it?'

'Later,' Jennifer mouthed back at her as Punk spoke again.

"Sorry I didn't call before. Work's been hell and I just spent the last two weeks doing a loop through Canada."

"Oh yea. You did mention you travel a lot for work," Jen remarked. That would explain the lack of a phone call. He had been vague when she asked him what he did, but he did tell her a little bit …like the constant traveling. He made it seem like he was lucky to be home maybe once a week.

"Who is it?" Nicole asked again, trying to tickle her best friend into answering the question.

"Go away!" Jen mouthed forcefully, squirming to get away from Nicole's fingers.

"Yea. Anyway, I have a few days off and I'm in town. I was wondering if you'd want to do something. I did promise to take you out for a good steak sandwich, right?"

"I don't know. Give me a moment to check my very happening social calendar," she joked, her tone obvious.

"Come on," Nicole tried again. "Tell me."

"It looks like I can fit you in," Jen answered as she shook her head "no" at Nicole while battling to hold onto her phone as Nicole decided to take the more direct route of checking the Caller ID herself.

"Awesome," he responded. "When's good for you?"

That was the question… "Believe it or not, I'm free tonight."

"Seven?"

"Seven's good," Jennifer answered, still fighting off Nicole. "I gotta go. My best friend's trying to interrogate me."

She could hear her his low chuckle through the phone. "Okay. Pick you up then."

"Can't wait. You do remember where I live right?"

"Yea. All else fails I'll just ask for directions to the prettiest girl in Chicago's house," he flirted, and she knew it. Well, two could play that kind of game. Still being perfectly honest, she was attracted to him, but of much else she wasn't certain. She'd only really talked to him twice before, and that was it. Three weeks had passed. It was always possible whatever attraction she felt towards him was just a crush. Rushing into things head first wasn't her style anymore.

"What a coincidence. She happens to live three doors down from me," she laughed. "Unfortunately for you she's never home."

"Then I guess you're stuck with me," he continued. "See you then."

"Okay. Bye," she said before hanging up.

"So who was it?" Nicole demanded.

"Do you remember the guy that took me to lunch three weeks ago."

"Uh-huh. Punk," Nicole answered. She was still skeptical about him. "The one with the "cute smile" and the "crinkly eyes" and the "sexy tattoos?" she asked rhetorically quoting Jennifer from when she was gushing about the little "Not-date" she had with him. Alright, fine. Maybe he was on her mind more than she wanted to admit.

"He just asked me to dinner with him," Jennifer told Nicole, narrowing her eyes a little.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Nicole said seriously. "You've went out once, and you're already into him. I can tell, so don't bother with the denial," she continued, interrupting Jen before she could speak. "You like him. Fine. Just don't expect me to play nice. Be careful. You don't know anything about him. He waited _three_ weeks to call you. He's probably using you," she said, not to hurt Jen's feelings, but to make sure history wouldn't repeat itself.

"I'm being careful, I promise," Jen assured, mostly to appease Nicole. "I'm not about to let myself get hurt again like Corey hurt me. He's out of my life. You can quit with the over-protective sibling act. I love you, Nicole, really, but I can't stand you when you do that. Can you just pretend to be happy for me?"

"Fine," Nicole agreed. "But only because I love you, too."

"Thanks," Jen said softly, glad to have avoided a major argument.

Over two hours later—at about quarter to seven—Jennifer was still trying to find a shirt that said, "I'm kind of into you," without saying, "I want to jump you." It was quite a dilemma, and Punk was going to get there any minute.

"It's just steak sandwiches…not surf and turf," she muttered, tossing aside yet another perfectly fine shirt. She stood in the middle of her room in only her favorite pair of jeans and a bra with almost the entirety of her wardrobe on her bed. She had to have gone through everything at least twice, but she couldn't decide.

Meanwhile, standing in the hallway outside of Nicole and Jennifer's shared apartment ten minutes early instead of his usual ten minutes late was none other than Phil "CM Punk" Brooks, the Straightedge Superstar of the WWE. He was dressed casually in dark jeans, a band shirt, and his favorite Misfits hoodie, along with his classic Chicago Cubs baseball cap. Underneath the hat his hair was pulled back into a short ponytail.

He had been psyched when Jen agreed to go with him to dinner. Finally, after a three week touring schedule, he was back home for a few day before he had to catch his next flight. Instead of staying locked up in his apartment all night catching up on his comics, he was going out with a pretty girl in Chicago. He liked these plans a lot more.

He knocked a few times on the door and waited for her to answer. The door opened, but it wasn't Jen. A light blonde head appeared as the door opened instead of Jennifer's red-brown hair. He remembered that Jen lived with her best friend, but he couldn't recall her name…only that she didn't like him…at all. At least she didn't have a knife this time.

"Oh, you're here," the woman remarked. She grudging let him through the door.

The apartment was open and welcoming. There was the usual organized clutter that came with two people living together, but it was no where near the mess that would make up a bachelor's pad. The door opened right into the living room area of the apartment.

"Have a seat. Jenna's still get changed," she ordered, gesturing to one of the comfy armchairs.

Punk sank down into one of the chairs that was a soft red color. "Why do I feel like I should be promising not to have her out late?"

"Because you should be. Let's get something straight, right now. I don't like you and I have a lot of friends capable of hiding a body if something unfortunate should happen to you," she cautioned with a very calm, rational smile. Still, he would rather have been trapped in a ring against an angry Paul armed with his trusty sledge hammer instead of sitting here across from her for another five minutes. He probably had a better chance against Triple H anyway.

"Hey, Nikki! I need your help quick!" Jen called. "This shirt or this shirt? I can't decide and he's—" she continued, appearing from the hall way connected to the living room while holding a shirt on a hanger in each hand. She was still only in jeans and a white push-up bra. Her eyes went wide when she saw him sitting in her favorite chair.

His eyebrow rose appreciatively at the sight of her bare skin. He took notice of the piercing through her belly button and the colorful tattoo of a bird of paradise just peaking from behind the edge of her bra. Apparently she was a wilder girl than he had first thought. Interesting.

"I don't know if my opinion counts, but I vote for the pink halter," he commented, his tongue sneaking out to play with his piercing as he grinned.

"Umm…okay," she responded, but it sounded more like a question than an answer. She darted back down the hall to her room. When she turned around, he saw a bright display of colorful ink across her back that would put Jeff Hardy—the Rainbow Warrior—to shame! She was gone too quickly to make out what the colors made up, but they covered almost the entirety of her back.

"Quit smirking!" Jen's friend snapped. She glared at him from across the room threateningly.

Jen came back out a few moments later wearing the baby pink halter Punk liked. Her hair was pulled into a medium ponytail and she had on a pair of black flip-flops. Her cheeks were still stained pink, but she smiled at Punk. He smiled back. "You look good," he said, though what he really wanted to say was 'beautiful.'

"Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself," she flirted right back.

"So, you ready?"

"Yea. Don't wait up, Nikki," Jennifer said to her friend as Punk rose from the chair.

"Try to get home before two in the morning," Nicole said dryly. She still glared coldly at Punk, but let him escape without any more death threats.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, Jen said softly, "I'm sorry for whatever she threatened you with." She leaned back against the door, looking up at him. The hallway was empty, except for them.

"It wasn't bad," he smirked.

"You forget that I know her," she reminded.

"Alright…maybe I wouldn't want to meet her in a dark ally," he joked, getting another laugh from Jen. "So are we going or…?" he asked her, well aware of the residual awkwardness. After three weeks of no communication, he was almost certain she wouldn't want to go out with him. Then when he did come to her apartment, he saw her topless…while he was not complaining about it (oh, no), girls usually got weird about that kind of thing. Still he had to wonder what that tattoo(s?) was on her back.

"I'm good to go," she shrugged. "You driving or is it in walking distance."

"Driving, definitely," he answered. "But we're gonna do some walking when we get there."

"Ohh, field trip," she smiled. "Lead the way."

_What happens next? Where does he take her? And what is that tattoo? Don't forget to vote!_


	6. Chapter 6

Pepsi is still in the lead. Coke, rise against!

I'm better now. I meant to have this up yesterday, but my best friend kidnapped me and wouldn't give me back. Anyway, I'll make this quick. Go vote if you haven't already.

**Killing Loneliness**

"Do you remember our first date-date?" she asked softly, resting her head on his shoulder. He hugged her closer to him. The hand still on her bare skin moved down to her hip. She loved this best—the closeness.

"I remember that halter," he answered. "You looked so hot. I'm glad Nikki was there, otherwise I might have down something I shouldn't have."

"As I recall that didn't stop you later," she teased.

"As I recall you didn't complain," he answered her, sounding pleased and a bit smug.

"I do my suffering in silence, Mr. Punk," she smiled up at him. He leaned down and connected his lips to hers. The chaste kiss turned more and more passionate until they had to break for oxygen.

"Masochist," he grinned.

"Well, kissing you _is_ such a hardship, you know."

*~*~*~*~*

_Seven months, one week earlier…_

"Come on! You have to! Please?"

"Alright, fine. I'll do it."

"Awesome!" she cheered, pulling him by the arm towards the Ferris wheel. The line only had a few couples, so they didn't have to wait long. At first Jen had been a little nervous when Punk turned off onto an exit towards the carnival, but now she was glad he did.

So far he insisted on paying for everything—the admission, food, a few games, and even the ride tickets. Whenever she tried to pay for something, he said, "Don't worry about it. Let me treat you."

Tucked under her arm was a giant stuffed teddy bear he had won her at the balloon darts. Soft, fuzzy, and white, the bear did not resemble the usual cheap fair-prizes.

Punk was again glad he looked normal enough that most people ignored him. He really didn't want a crazy fan to ruin this…whatever this was. He'd like to call it a date. Yea, a date sounded good.

Soon the line moved up and the ride operator—a weedy looking twenty-something college student—assisted them as his job demanded by making sure the lap bar was secure before pressing the button to start the machine and get the next car to the platform.

"I can't remember the last time I was on one of these things," Jen remarked as the ride really started moving. She turned towards Punk and said softly, "Thanks. I haven't this much fun is a long time."

"I'm glad," he said back, suddenly unable to look away from her. She had gotten cold earlier, so he had given her is sweatshirt. It was too big for her, but looked _right_ on her, like she was supposed to be wearing it. The teddy bear he won her was between them so it wouldn't fall off. She was so close to him, their legs touched, and she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Screw it," he muttered, and before Jen had a chance to ask him what he meant, Punk leaned over and kissed her.

At first she was shocked by the kiss, but soon her felt her return the pressure against his lips. His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her even closer to him. The other hand undid the tie holding her ponytail back and threaded his fingers through her now loose hair. She just wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him. They didn't realize they did most of this. The only impulse they were aware of was, "more, now."

She didn't know him. She was as much a stranger to him as he was to her, but Jen was very much attracted to him.

"Wow," she gasped when they broke apart for much needed oxygen. Her head was buzzing form the lightheadedness. She was still flush against him, but she didn't pull away.

"Wow," he agreed before leaning in again and kissing her for a second time.

The loud carnival music filled the air, and so did the scents of lots of food. The whole area was full of light and life. It was magic, and it all faded out from their awareness, so wrapped up in each other as they were. Jen could only think of how good Punk smelled and how wonderful his lips felt against hers. All Punk could think was how perfect Jen felt against him and how right she looked in _his_ shirt. He didn't think of himself as possessive or jealous, but seeing her in his clothes seemed like a warning to keep others away, that she was _his_.

They broke again for air when the Ferris wheel stopped with their car at the top, overlooking the skyline of Chicago. He nipped lightly at her bottom lips as they pulled apart reluctantly, a smug grin overtaking his features.

"Promise you won't wait three weeks to call again?" she asked breathily, one of her hands over his chest.

"If you promise to go on another date with me," he bargained.

"Okay," she agreed, smiling. "You know, I'm not supposed to like you this much. I practically just met you."

"I know," he said, still catching his breath.

That didn't stop them from kissing again. She surrendered to him, and her lips parted. His conquering tongue slipped inside her mouth and dueled with hers. His piercing on his tongue made her gasp and his lip ring caught on her lip, still they continued. They didn't stop until someone cleared their throat.

Punk pulled up first to see the blushing ride operator going to unlock the lap bar. The ride was over, and they had spent most of it kissing. Jen half laughed, still breathless, as he offered her his hand and together they stepped off the ride platform. Still holding hands, they walked away.

"You won't turn into a pumpkin if I have you out past midnight, will you?" he teased.

"No, but Nicole might have a Hulk moment," she bantered back.

"OH MY GOD! THAT'S CM PUNK!"

Punk's head immediately turned in the direction of the scream and he repressed a groan. A blonde girl, maybe sixteen, seventeen, wearing one of his T-shirts from the WWE was exciting chattering to her gaggle of friends as she got closer. "Shit," he cussed.

"Is she screaming at you?" Jennifer asked him, sounding confused.

"I can explain," he said. "Just let me handle this." Thankfully the noise of the crowd had prevented too many other people from realizing what she said.

"Oh my god! I was at the show when you cashed Money in the Bank on that prick Edge! I don't care what JBL says, you're the best champion ever!" the girl gushed all in one breath.

"Thank you," Punk said, his tone telling Jen that he was use to this happening.

"I know you're busy and have lost of ass to kick, but would you please sign my shirt?" she begged, producing a silver sharpie.

"Sure, why not?" Punk asked, taking the marker and quickly penning her ring name by the printed fists on the shirt. Of course the other girls wanted him to sign their own shirts, though none of them wore any WWE shirts.

"Thank you so much!" the girl gushed before running off.

"So what was that?" Jen asked, one eyebrow raised as they walked off again.

Punk grinned at her crookedly (she was beginning to get fund of that grin). "When you asked what I do, I told you I travel a lot, right? I'm a professional wrestler signed with the WWE, hence why that girl had an attack of fangirlism."

"You wrestle?"

"Yea. I take it you don't watch wrestling?"

"No," Jen answered. "I just realized how much I don't know about you."

"Well, my name is Philip Jack Brooks," he started. "I'm from Chicago. I'm straightedge. I've been wrestling professionally for the last ten years. My ring name is CM Punk, and I'm constantly changing what the CM stands for. Um…I'm never in a city for longer than three days in a row. I may have a minor addiction to Pepsi, but I'm down to one can of diet Pepsi a day…usually. I such at most video games, but no one can beat me at Guitar Hero…I'm a huge comic book nerd…I think I like you a lot," he added at the end of his monologue, that grin still plastered across his features.

"Hello ,Phil. My name's Jennifer McCorvik, but nearly no one calls me Jennifer," she started in the same tone he had begun with. "I'm from Philadelphia. I work as a waitress at my best friend's fiancé's bar. Um…I never call…ever…since I never have minutes. I'm not proud of my past. It isn't something I like talking about. I had a lot of problems that Nicole and Bambi saved me from," she said softly, and Punk had a hard time hearing what she said over the hustle and bustle of the crowd around them. She stopped walking and glanced at him. "I like you, too, I think."

He leaned in and kissed her again, but this time softly.

"Let's get some food or something," he said, taking her hand again. Within then minutes they had a funnel cake with extra powdered sugar and were sitting in an area of relative quiet. They had a table to themselves and sat across form each other.

"So shy wrestling?" Jen asked before popping a piece of the fried batter into her mouth.

He grinned wider. "When I was little I watched wrestling whenever I could. There was this one guy—Rowdy Roddy Piper—and he cracked a coconut over another guy's head, and I knew that I wanted to get paid for that."

"So have you?"

"Huh?"

"Cracked a coconut on someone's head?"

He laughed at that. "No, not coconuts." He popped a piece into his own mouth. "I'm on _Raw_ Monday nights on USA. You should watch sometime."

"We'll see. 'CM Punk?'" she asked to which he nodded. "What does that mean anyway?"

"Championship Material, Chicago Made, Cookie Monster, Crooked Moonsault, Chick Magnet," he rattled off. "As for the 'Punk,' well, I was always a bit of a punk growing up. Got into fights a lot—got arrested in high school—, got illegal tattoos at 17, and generally caused a shit load of trouble. It just stuck."

"Seventeen? Better than me. I was fifteen," she answered. She turned so her back was to him and took off his sweatshirt. She held her hair out of the way so he could clearly see the expanse of colorful ink across her upper back. The amount of detail shocked him. "My first is the one kinda where my back stops and my neck starts. I worked down from there. I guess you could say I never really finished."

The tattoo she talked about was a black Celtic knot formed into a sun. it was the only solid spot of color on her back.

"Beautiful," he whispered, taking in the colorful mesh before him.

"I got work done every couple of weeks for a couple of years," she added. "It's kinda amazing I didn't get anything from the needles. Apparently I had some kind of issue with image, self-destruction, and impulses."

The rest of the visible skin on her back was covered with images of fairies, tropical flowers, and bright butterflies all forming a massive Garden of Eden.

"There's a fairy for everyone who's really mattered to me. Like, my sister is watching over the rest of them form my left shoulder. My mother's down near m hip—she's a hag."

"It's amazing," he said softly, reaching out to trace his finger along the delicate curve of the wings of one of the fairies along Jen's spine. He felt and saw her shiver when he touched her, so he pulled back.

"Thanks," she said, turning around and putting his sweatshirt back on. "So what about your ink?" she asked.

"Honestly, I lost count how many I have after the eleventh or twelfth. My left arm was dubbed "the good luck arm." My right arm is mostly classic tattoo art. This one," he started, gesturing to the hand of aces on his right arm, "is for my trainer—Ace Steele. He pretty much turned me from a street punk into a wrestler. There's a banner that says, "Luck is for Losers," and that's kinda my philosophy. You gotta do the work to get the rewards."

"Does that fish have three eyes?"

"Yea," he answered.

"So, any others anywhere?"

"I think I'll keep that a mystery. Besides, you didn't tell me about the one by your ankle," he observed casually, but she tensed.

"Look, don't ask about it, okay? It personal."

"All tats are," he said softly.

"I'm still not telling you," Jen reiterated. "You're insanely sweet, but Nicole didn't even know for a real long time. I like you, but I barely know you."

"Then I'll have to work a little harder I guess," he answered, his crocked grin again in place. Jen was definitely getting attached to that stupid grin.

"Yea," she agreed. "I think I'd like that."


	7. Chapter 7

Pepsi is still 7:4 in the lead. I'm sure by this point I don't need to explain what that's for.

Good news: I feel better. Yay me!

Care to place a bet on whole will be the victor between Jeff Hardy and Punk at Night of Champions? I think we all know who my money's on.

**Killing Loneliness**

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Give it a rest, Nicole," Jen yawned. She closed the door behind her with a big, happy smile on her face. She leaned backward against the door and sighed, hugging her arms across her chest. The black sweatshirt Punk had given her when she had been cold was still covering her arms, and she hugged the bear that he had won her.

"Is that his shirt?" Nicole demanded from the couch. A sense of dread filled her. So much for Jen taking her time. She was too serious already, and Nicole had a feeling things would get worse before getting better for Jen.

"Uh-huh," Jen answered.

"Be careful," Nicole again cautioned before raising to her feet. She regarded her friend with worried eyes. Without another word Nicole turned away and headed to her room.

Jennifer didn't notice. She smiled and licked her lips. She hummed happily as she thought about her date with Punk. She officially gave up and was ready to admit to having a high school-sized crush on him. So she liked him? Big deal. And he had to come back…she did have his sweatshirt after all.

*~*~*~*~*

_Three weeks later_

"I'm going out tonight," Jennifer told Nicole with a huge smile on her face. Punk had called her earlier from the airport, and he was going to be in Chicago (well, actually Lockport since that was where his apartment was) for two days. A few of his friends were also in town, and Punk had asked her to go with them to a club to give him someone to hang with while his friends drank themselves stupid. Of course she agreed to go.

Since that went on the date at the carnival and spent a lot of time connected by their lips, they had spent every moment they could talking to each other (Jen actually was buying minutes for her phone more than once every other month or so; the girl behind the counter at the corner gas station looked shocked when she asked for another phone card twice last week). Every night they could they talked for hours, whether it be by phone or by online chatting. For the few days he was hone during those three weeks, Jen and Punk spent as much time as they could together. Whether it was a movie or dinner, they ended up in a display of public affection alarmingly often.

Nicole could honestly say that even she and Alex didn't talk that much when they started dating—and they were the ones getting married! She resigned herself to the fact that Punk would probably end up being Jen's date to her and Alex's wedding…whenever they settled on the date…at least it appeared that way.

"Where?" Nicole asked, haven given up on trying to talk Jen out of going. She, better than anyone other than Bambi, knew just how stubborn Jen could be. At least if she appeared to be semi-supportive Jen would let Nicole help her if and when Punk broke her heart.

"I don't know. A club maybe," Jen shrugged.

"Thus explaining why you're all dolled up," Nicole remarked, gesturing to Jen's attire.

"Does it look bad? Skank-ish?" Jen asked, turning around quick in a circle.

"No," Nicole answered, reviewing her clothes with a critical eye.

She was wearing a pair of strappy black heels, dark short-shorts, and a silvery metallic halter with an open back, showing off most of her full back tattoo. She had the sweatshirt Punk had let her borrow several weeks before over her arm, and she only had minimal accessories—a black cuff on her wrist, a think silver necklace with a tiny heart charm, and silver hoops through each of the double piercings in her ears.

Bangs straight and brushed across one eye with the rest of her hair up in a slightly messy up-do and dramatic make-up made her look flashy, but not trashy.

"You're sure?" Jen asked.

"Yay," Nicole said. "I can think of at least one person who will appreciate the outfit."

Jen smiled with a laugh. "You and Alex should go, too. When was the last time you got out?"

"Can't. He's at the bar. He finally fired Joe."

"That prick? Good. I hated that guy."

"Yay, so now he's short for this shift and had to go in. I offered to help, but you know how he is," Nicole sighed. "Have a good time then. When are you leaving?"

"Whenever he gets here. Could be ten minutes, could be an hour," Jen answered, sinking down onto her favorite chair.

"Are those shoes mine?" Nicole asked rhetorically.

"Maybe. They fit me better anyway," Jen answered nevertheless. "You do have great taste in shoes though," she offered with a grin. "You should still go out even if Alex can't. I'll let you be my chaperone," she joked.

"Pass," Nicole declined. "I'm kinda tired anyway. I've been sick."

"Are you still throwing up? You know you should see a doctor," Jen prodded, taking over Nicole's usually role. "If you ask my opinion, I think you're preg—"

"Don't say it!" Nicole ordered, glaring at Jennifer. "Just don't. I'm not. Positively, absolutely not. No."

"Pregnant," she finished anyway.

"Oh, you'd know, wouldn't you?" Nicole sneered, but immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry. That was low," she said softly, sitting up straight on the couch.

"Yay, it was," Jennifer agreed, now cold and her shoulders stiff.

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry," she said again.

"It doesn't matter. Ancient history, right?" Jen asked with a bitter smile.

"It does matter. I just…I can't be pregnant. Not now. There's too much drama in my life already. I couldn't handle you _and_ a baby," she sighed, not really realizing the pain it caused Jen. She meant it as a joke. "Besides, I probably just have a bit of that weird stomach thing that's going around. I'll be fine."

"Okay," Jen answered, still cold.

Nicole knew then that Jen had closed herself off. She sighed again, upset with herself.

"I'll be in my room. Call me when Punk gets here," Jen instructed, raising to her feet without looking Nicole's way. She walked stiffly with her shoulders squared defensively and her chin pulled high stubbornly down the short hallway to her room.

"Dammit!" Nicole cussed, hiding her face in a pillow. One step forward, two steps back, she thought. Jen was a very different person than she was two years ago, but signs of the girl she use to be still showed its ugly little head…and Nicole had—even un-intentionally—just used her worst trigger against her. "Bambi, I need your help," she said softly in exasperation. Until a year ago, she hadn't even known what exactly had happened between Jen and Corey. All she had been aware of was what Bambi had hinted at. She had agreed to play the role of Jen's keeper for Bambi without truly knowing what was wrong.

It was ten minutes or so before there was a knock at the door.

Punk had been looking forward to seeing Jen all week. It had been good to find someone who wasn't interested in him just because of his job…though his job was a big part of who he was. Jen could listen to him talk about it, but Jen wasn't just interested in CM Punk; however, she did tell him that he had good taste in "underwear."

Cody and a few of the girls had been bugging him to go with them clubbing. He had finally given in, but under the condition he could invite someone. At least he didn't have to worry about his friends threatening Jennifer…

The door opened to the blonde head of Nicole…a view he was beginning to become familiar with, but unlike what he normally saw, Nicole looked upset. He immediately asked, "Are you okay?"

"No," she said plainly. "Girl stuff. We'll be fine. Are you going to stand there all night?"

"You're…letting me in?" he asked in surprise.

"You make her happy. I still don't like you, but she does," Nicole answered, stepping aside to let him into the apartment. As she closed the door behind him, she said, "She's been in a better mood because of you than I've seen her be in years, but for your own safety, do not try and get her to talk about our fight, okay? Just listen if she does talk. I don't know what it is about you, but for some reason she trusts you."

Punk was floored by Nicole's sudden acceptance of him. Before then she had been nothing but unwelcoming to him.

"She's in her room. Last door on the left," Nicole continued, glancing towards the little hallway inside the apartment to her room and Jen's room.

Punk was still trying to figure out what she was doing. "Thanks," he said before following her directions. Nicole didn't follow. When he came to the last door on the left, he knocked on the slightly open door. He heard movement form inside the room, but Jen didn't answer. He knocked again, but still no answer; however, he had knocked a little too hard and the door swung the rest of the way open. Jennifer was across the room with her back to him, headphones over her ears, and she was rocking back and forth and dancing provocatively to whatever music she was listening to. He blinked, taking in the view.

Punk leaned against the door frame as he watched the curve of her hips rock with each movement, the bend of her back, and the colorful display of ink over her skin flex.

She turned as she moved, and so saw him standing in the door way with the crooked grin on his face. Her eyes widened and she took her headphones off. "What are you doing?"

"Just looking," he answered, his eyes traveling up and down her torso. "Wow. Are you sure those heels are safe?"

"Well," she started with a smile back on her lips as she set the head phones down on her dresser. She walked towards him while continuing to speak, "I'm sure you'll catch me this time if I fall down."

She stopped a step away from him and cocked her head with a coy smile. She closed the space between them by pulling her closer with his hands on her hips. She giggles as she leaned on his chest. She kissed the underside of his chin, which was as high as she could reach on him.

"You're all scruffy," she said almost dreamy, snuggling as close to him as she could get.

He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "I missed you. I nearly fucked up a house show because I was thinking about you again. I almost don't want to go out tonight cause then I'll have to share you."

"Are you going to kiss me now?" she asked him with half-lidded eyes.

"I guess I will," he answered, finally kissing her like he wanted to since the last time they said goodbye.

The kiss was getting very heated—as most kisses they shared were prone to getting—and the sexual tension was growing thicker. They hadn't had sex yet, but they'd gotten close to it. Normally Punk stopped them before they got to far (he having very firm beliefs about promiscuous sex and commitment in general), or something or someone interrupted them. In any case, her legs were wrapped tight around his waist and he supported her weight as their tongues dueled inside of her mouth. He took a few steps towards her bed and suddenly found himself on his back on the comforter with her on top of him.

They kept kissing and groping until someone with a deep voice whooped, "Looks like Punker is getting lucky tonight!" Following the remark were several male chortles and female giggles.

They pulled apart with an audile "pop!" Standing in the door way was a group of three guys and two women. All of them seemed to be familiar. One was a black man who had a very easy-going grin on his face. The other two guys were lightly tanned and well muscled. The one who had spoken had the sculpted physique of a body-builder, while the other male was more lean. The women were just as fit, and they were both very glamorous. One was very thin, tall, and blonde. The other was more solidly built with darker shin and hair.

"What the fuck! I told you fuckers to go on ahead!" Punk half-laughed, one of his hands still under Jen's shirt while the other cradled the curve of her rump. She had an expression of confusion and almost embarrassment on her face. In a quick movement she ceased to straddle Punks hips and smoothed down her shirt. Of course the group had already seen the ink work on her back. Punk sat up when Jen dismounted, annoyed that their moment had been interrupted even if it had been for the best.

"Considered what you two naughty kids are up to, I think—"

"John, do me a favor and stop thinking," Punk interrupted. "Do you mind?" he asked when they all just stood in the doorway. "Go away!"

"I'm sorry, Jen. I tried to stop them," Nicole said as she came up behind the group.

"It's fine. At least I have clothes on," she answered, referring to an incident that occurred when Nicole had first met Alex's parents. Now that had been truly mortifying for everyone involved.

"Okay everybody! The show's over. Go wait in the living room," Nicole commanded, directing them to the main room to allow Jennifer and Punk to re-compose themselves.

"I hate your friends," Jen remarked lightly as soon as they left.

"I hate my friends more," he answered in the same tone.

Two minutes later Punk and Jen appeared from the hallway leading to Jen's room. They held hands and Jen was wearing his black Misfits sweatshirt over her clothes. The oversized shirt dwarfed her smaller frame.

"You're right; she is cute!" the blonde smiled brightly. "So you're the Jennifer Phil hasn't shut up about?"

"Yea, Jennifer is me," Jen answered with a little wave, looking a little nervous.

"These wackos are just guys I work with. I swear I don't really know them," Punk joked good-naturedly. "Anyway, that's John, Cody, Kofi, Layla, and Barbie," he introduced, gesturing to each one. They all grinned back and greeted her after his little introduction.

Jen had a feeling the awkward feeling taking over her abdominals would not fade away anytime soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Who's excied about Night of Champions? I am!

According to the poll, Pepsi is winning 8:5. Come on Coke! You're catching up!

Anyway, I don't know when the next peice will be up. Not only am I stuck babysitting a dog who ahs a habit of getting into _everything_, I have to get my wisdom teeth pulled on Thursday. Not fun. Well, here's to not being straightedge and so being able to enjoy the best pain killers they will perscrib. Wish me luck.

**Killing Loneliness**

"Well that wasn't at all awkward," she said sarcastically several hours later, letting her head fall back on the head rest of her reclined seat. Punk was behind the wheel. He had just dropped Cody and John, the last passengers, off at their hotel.

"Just be glad Randy, Jeff, and Adam didn't come," Punk smirked with a grin. He was just as tired as Jen was. "They have a habit of getting themselves banned from clubs and bars. It's kinda funny actually."

"Sounds like they know how to party," she laughed.

"Not my kind of party," he shrugged, still watching the road ahead of them.

"I kinda figured that. That is what straightedge means, right?" Jen joked. "I had a good time tonight, ya' know. I love spending time with you. It's nice."

"That's good. I like spending time with you, too," he answered, turning his head to smile at her. His free hand clasped hers over the armrest, a gesture far more intimate and sweet to Jen than a kiss.

"You don't have to go," she said softly when he parked in the empty space in front of her apartment building. The harsh light of the street light shone through the car window, giving everything a yellow haze. The digital clock on the dash board read 3:23.

The look on his face could only be described as tempted. "I shouldn't."

"It's late. You're tired. It would be dangerous for you to drive all the way home tonight," she offered up to make her offer more valid.

"Nicole would try to kill me," he groaned.

"For the number of times Alex has spent the night here, I think she can deal with my boyfriend spending the night. I'm sure there's something in there you can wear in the morning," Jen continued. "And my bed is sorta big. I'm pretty sure we can just sleep, right?"

"We can try," he said, leaning toward her and kissing her soft and tenderly. His hand cupped the back of her head as both of hers twisted in his hair. His pierced tongue traced the seam of her lips and gently coaxed her to part them. She did, but only to nip at his lip ring. He groaned, rapidly losing the will to say, "No."

"Okay," he answered a minute later when they had to stop for air.

A wide grin broke out across her face. "I race you to the door," she challenged.

"You're on," he agreed, his own grin just as wide.

At once they scrambled to get out of the car, laughing wildly as they did so. He fumbled with his keys to lock the car, and while he was occupied, Jennifer took the opportunity to gain a head start over him. She nearly lost her balance on her heels as she ran, but she managed to catch herself. Rather than chance the steps to the front doors, she undid the straps on her heels to kick off the shoes so she wouldn't break her ankle.

Punk had caught up by that time and stanched her up in his arms, startling her. She gave a small laughing scream as she tried not to lose her (Nicole's) shoes while Punk raced up the front steps and through the front doors. Alternating between wild and giddy laughter and passionate kisses, he maneuvered them towards the elevator. Distracted by the giggling woman in his arms, he groped for the call button.

Of course since at three-thirty in the morning there was next to no one else around, and so the elevator didn't take long to get there. It opened with a ping. Still locking lips he carried her inside and pressed the floor 2 button.

"We need to slow down," he gasped, resting his head backwards against the cool metal as he tried to get control of his thoughts again.

"I don't want to," she answered breathily. "Dammit, I want you, and I know you want me, too," she continued, pressing herself against him. He couldn't deny that she was right. She could still see the indecision in his eyes. "I won't make you, but I wouldn't stop you. I want this."

"Do you have any idea how hard you make it just to think?" he sighed, setting her down on her feet. He didn't let her go thou. His hands held her to him low on her back.

"I have an idea. You make it the same way," she whispered softly, tracing his jaw with her fingers. The elevator doors opened, but they didn't notice at first. They kissed again, and Punk's self restraint, his discipline that he was so proud of, buckled.

*~*~*~*~*

_Later that morning_

The hot late-morning sunlight shining through the cracks in the blinds shone right into his eyes, waking him from his sleep. At first he hadn't recognized where he was—something that was not uncommon when the number of hotels he stayed at were taken into consideration.

However common it was to wake up not knowing where he was, this would be the first time he woke up not knowing where he was with someone else in bed with him. Last night came back to him with a pleasant burst. His lips curved into a content smile as his fingers played with a few strands of her red-brown hair. Resting her head on his chest was the peaceful form of Jennifer. She slept on with a soft smile on her face.

She was so warm and soft beside him. He shifted slightly so he could better hold her. The twisted sheets dipped low, low, low on her back so each curve was visible and the colorful ink seemed to dance in the light. His other arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer, and his hand settled in the dip of her middle back.

"You know it's hard to use you as a pillow if you keep moving," she mumbled, not opening her eyes.

He grinned at her admonishment and kissed the top of her head. "Good morning to you, too," he murmured.

"Is it morning already?" she mumbled, blinking slowly to clear the sleepiness from her head. She arched her back as he traced his fingers up and down the curve of her spine. She made a soft, content purr in her throat before turning her head and pressing her lips on the skin of his chest just above his nipple.

"Um-hmm," he hummed, his other hand tilting her head up before he gently nipped at her kiss-bruised bottom lip.

He nose scrunched and she tittered, "Eww. Morning breath."

"You don't exactly taste like roses either," he answered. For some reason Jen found that hilarious and kissed him anyway, morning breath and all.

While Jen's morning was looking bright, Nicole's was not. She was not a morning person, which was why she worked nights at her boyfriend/fiancé's bar. She firmly believed any time before ten-thirty in the morning did not exist, and that functioning before was not possible before her third cup of coffee. Thankfully Jen was usually up before her and always put on a pot of coffee.

So it was quite a shock to her system when the heavenly aroma of coffee didn't greet her when she opened her bedroom door. It was an even bigger shock when she stepped out into the hall only to trip over a pair of men's shoes. Those shoes had not been there the night before, and she knew they didn't belong to Alex since he was still passed out on the bed and his shoes were by the night stand.

She cursed in an angry hiss. At first it made no sense. Why would there be a random pair of shoes in the hall way? Then she noticed a silvery shirt a few feet down the hall—the same shirt that Jen had been wearing the night before.

"That son of a bitch," she cussed.

Alex's head of dark, short hair picked up off his pillow as he jolted straight up with a cry of, "Where's da fire?"

About half an hour later Jennifer quietly opened her bedroom door and motioned for Punk to stay in her room. She tip-toed down the hall in hopes that she would not wake up Nicole. Those hopes were dashed when she noticed that Nicole's door was open. She rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth. She turned around and went back to her room again.

Punk had his pants half way up when the door opened. He looked up, surprised. He grinned when he saw Jen enter and close the door behind her. She had to smile at the wink he sent her way. He finished pulling up his pants and did up the zipper and button. "I thought you were getting coffee?"

"Nicole's up," she responded. "Prepare for battle."

"That bad?"

"It will be," Jennifer sighed. "You may hear screaming. Don't be alarmed."

Meanwhile, out in the kitchen, Alex was trying to calm down a fuming Nicole. "Nikki," he said, "relax. She's a big girl. She can 'andle 'erself."

"Do you know what he did to her!"

"Pral'ly same thin' we did," he muttered, but Nicole heard him. She through a spatula at his head, and it nearly connected. "Hey now!" he shouted.

"You don't even like that punk!"

"I didn't like dat punk 'for he n' Jenna got cozy. He's good fo' her. Treats 'er rite," he continued.

"If he was "good for her" and if he "treats her right,"" she started in a sneer, "then he wouldn't have pushed her for sex!"

"Why da hell are ya two even frien's?" he demanded. "Ya treat 'er like she's ya kid or somethin'!"

"Excuse me for trying to protect her!"

"Nikki, I love ya, but she don't need no protectin'," Alex answered.

Nicole's jaw tensed and her lips pursed. She knew that Alex was right, but she didn't want to admit that he was right. "Doesn't she deserve to have someone to look out for her?"

Alex rose from the chair he was sitting at and stepped over to her. Calmly, he rubbed her back and kissed her forehead. "Yea, but I think she don't need protectin' from dis ohn'."

"Morning," the voice of Jen greeted as she walked into the room. Both turned to see her wearing a short pink nightgown and Punk's sweatshirt. He hair was down and messy, and there was a blossoming of hickies on her neck and shoulder. She eyed Nicole almost defensively, daring her to make a comment.

Behind her followed the still shirtless Punk. Fit, but not grotesquely so, the sight of his chest made Nicole internally gasp. Well, Jen had never went for guys it hurt to look at. The sheer number of tattoos decorating his arms was amazing, almost as amazing as the number across Jen's back. The number of hours each had invested in a tattoo pallor chair was insane.

He stopped behind Jen and hugged her from behind. He had a satisfied smile on his face. His hair was just as messy as Jen's, and he had several hickies of his own.

"So…breakfast?" Jen asked, still carefully watching Nicole for any sign of danger. "Want some omelets?"

"Oh hell yeah," Alex answered with a grin,.

"I though you said you weren't hungry," Nicole remarked with a raised eyebrow.

Alex smiled sheepishly. "Now, I love ya, but ya can't cook, Nikki." He turned his attention from Nicole back to Jen and the man holding her. "So you're Punk, rite?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"Good. Now I got someohn' ta watch my favorite gurls fo' me," Alex grinned. "How 'bout you n' me go n' watch somethin' on da tube n' let Jenna cook us up somethin' good?"

"Fine by me," Punk answered with a grin. He bent forward and around to press a kiss on his check, but she turned her hed just in time to catch her lips to his. He smiled as he nibbled at her bottom lip before sucking on it soothingly.

Nicole cleared her throat pointedly. Alex almost stopped her, but Jen and Punk had already stopped kissing. Punk let go of Jen before waling out of the kitchen area and into the living room, his smile still splitting his face.

"Awe rite. Jen, don't ya let Nikki touch nothin', kay?" Alex said with a laugh before heading out of the kitchen to join Punk in the living room.

"So?" Nicole asked as Jen got the eggs from the fridge. From the living room came the sounds of mid-morning cartoons.

"So what?" Jen asked, setting the carton on the counter.

"You two slept together," Nicole stated more than asked.

"Yes," Jennifer confirmed, now fetching the large skillet pan from under the counter.

"And?" Nicole asked.

"And what?" she demanded, one eyebrow raised.

"You two used protection, didn't you?" Nicole hissed.

"Did you?" Jen asked, giving her a "drop it" glare.

Nicole knew Jennifer would tell her nothing at this point, so she tried a different tactic. "Was it good?"

Jen smiled mischievously with bright eyes. "It was the best."

Out in the living room, Alex and Punk were sitting in mostly silence. Alex had taken over the couch while Punk occupied the same red chair he had the first time he had been in the apartment. In Alex's hand was a can of Coca-Cola. He preferred Pepsi, but since Jen did the shopping and most of the cooking, she decided what soda the apartment was stocked with. Since she liked Coke, it was Coke she stocked.

"So Jenna says ya travel a lot?" he mentioned, his eyes not leaving the screen.

"For work. I'm signed with the WWE, so my life is a giant tour schedule," Punk answered.

"So dat's why ya seem familiar Da boys at ma bar like ta put on wrestlin' sometimes," Alex answered with a nod. "So ya ain't 'round much then."

"No, I'm not."

"As long as ya know what ya doin'," Alex shrugged, taking another sip of coke.


	9. Chapter 9

According to the poll, Pepsi is winning 8:7. Come on Coke! You're almost tied.

Well, thanks to a combination of vicaden and icepacks, here's the next chapter. Before you begin reading it, I should put in a note--Don't kill me! And I do not know any of the actual people in this fic. Nor do I own them. I'm usually better about the whole disclaimer thing.

**Killing Loneliness**

_Four weeks later…October 16_

"Nikki, I'm back!" Jen called as she closed the door behind her. She had been on a date with Punk (dinner and a movie) and Punk had just dropped her back off. The next day Punk would be leaving again for another couple of days for a few shows. Still, Jen had a big smile on her face. She hummed dreamily as she dropped her purse onto her favorite chair.

Nicole sighed deeply and wiped the tears from her eye. Her hands shook with nerves. She hated the dark, guilty feeling eating away at her. It was horrible, but it had been something she had to do. Unfortunately, she had to tell Jen, like Jen had trusted her to know what happened with Corey.

Stiffly she rose from her chair at the kitchen table and walked into the living room. Jen turned with a bright smile, but that smile melted into a worried frown when she saw Nicole. "Are you—what's wrong?"

"I have to tell you something, but you're not going to like it," she answered. "I don't know any way to say this that you'll understand, so I'm just going to say it. You were right. I was pregnant."

At first Jennifer looked confused but happy, then her expression fell as she realized Nicole had used past tense. "What did ypu do?" she asked immediately, afraid of the answer she would get.

"I had an abortion," Nicole answered flatly.

Jen's jaw dropped in disbelief and shock. Then the fury set in, but she didn't say anything.

"I don't expect you to like it," she continued.

"Don't like it?" Jen demanded. "What do you expect me to say? I don't like it! I hate it! How could you be so selfish? Did you even tell Alex that you were pregnant?"

"Even if he did want a baby, we don't have the money Jen! Hell, you and I can barely afford this place half the time! And there's no way we'd have enough with just the bar! And what would you do if I would move in with Alec, huh? You can't afford the rent here by yourself," Nicole pointed out.

"We would have figured it out, Nicole!" Jen shouted back.

"How? How, Jen? Alex's place is right above the bar. That's no place for a baby. It's barely big enough for two people. There wouldn't be any room for you! Where would you go? Your boyfriend's in town for maybe two days before he has another plane to catch," Nicole pressed, trying to make Jen see her view.

"This isn't about me, dammit! This is about you killing your baby!" Jen screamed, frustrated by Nicole's speech.

"No, Jen. I told you I had an abortion because I thought I would be able to trust you to understand at least why. I didn't kill my baby. I terminated a pregnancy because there's no way Alex and I can afford a baby."

"Then how did you even get the money for an abortion?"

"I pawned some of my jewelry," she answered. "I did what I had to do."

"I'm sick and fucking tired of this!" Jen shouted, pulling at her hair in desperation. "You always do this! You decide what's best for everyone, no matter wheat they want! You're so controlling, and I'm tired of it!"

"Oh, forgive me for taking care of you for the last four years!" Nicole shoot right back.

"I'm not a little girl, Nicole! I'm not destroying myself anymore! And I don't need you to make decisions for me," Jen hissed out. "You act so damn tough. You killed your baby, and you expect me to be okay with it? Nicole, I thought I knew you, but I don't know you at all!"

"Would you just listen to yourself?" Nicole begged. "You're twenty-three years old, Jennifer! You think you know everything, but you don't! You have no idea! Do you have any clue what Bambi had to go through to keep you? What you put her through? What I had to watch her go—"

Before Nicole could finish her rant, Jennifer shouted, "I never asked her to!"

"You didn't have to. She didn't do it because you asked her to or because she wanted to—she _had_ to! She gave up her life for you! And you repaid her by running off with the first boy who called you pretty and promised you a good time!"

"You bitch! Shut up!" Jennifer screamed. "He loved me! He _loved_ me!"

"And then you had to go and get yourself pregnant! As if the partying and the tattoos weren't enough."

Jen throw the first thing she could reach—a china doll on the coffee table that Alex had given Nicole for her birthday—against the far wall by Nicole's head. "I didn't want to get pregnant! I didn't try to either." The tears poured down her face. "And I didn't get an abortion because I couldn't handle it, unlike you!"

"No, you got one because you're a selfish bitch!"

"You lying whore!" Jennifer shrieked again. If the occupants of the neighboring apartments weren't already use to screaming matches between Nicole and Jennifer, they probably would have called the police by now. "You whore. I can't wait until Alex finds out what you did to his baby! He'll never forgive you!"

"Alex doesn't even want kids!" Nicole raved, rage and hurt burning in her eyes. The fight had gone way too far, and each had said things they never should have said.

Without another word Jen turned away and grabbed her purse. She shook with anger and hurt as she stalked towards the door. When the door slammed shut behind her, Nicole fell to her knees, weeping.

Jen started running as soon as she left the apartment and to the main staircase, not bothering with the elevator. She kept running out of the main doors of the lobby out into the streets pouring down with rain and down blocks and back streets. She bumped into more than one person, but she continued running without stopping. Of course, her anger-fueled adrenaline wore off and she had to stop. It was dark, the sun had set hours before, and she was soaked through to the bone by the rain. She had no idea where she was in the city. Nervously, she dug in her purse for her phone and hoped desperately that she had minutes on it.

On his way back to Lockport, Phil Brooks was behind the wheel of his car. His Sidekick went off in his pocket. Absently with most of his attention on the road, he answered, "Hey, it's Phil."

"I need your help," Jen's voice begged in his ear. He could tell that she was crying.

"Jen? What's wrong?" he asked, immediately alarmed. Not even twenty minutes ago he had dropped her off at her shared apartment, and she had been more than okay then.

'Nikki and I—we fought and I ran and I need your help, please," she hurriedly gasped. "I don't k-know where I am and—God! Please!" she begged brokenly.

'It's gonna be okay. I'm gonna come get you," he said calmly. "Just tell me what's near by. Do you see any street signs?"

"There's a bar. McGallay's? I think that's its name," she said sniffling. "There's some kind of piercing parlor by it."

"I know where that is. You're okay. I'm coming right now," he said, turning down another street. "I'm gonna be there real soon. Just hang tight, okay?"

"O-okay," she breathed.

It didn't take long to get where Jen described—ten or fifteen minutes maybe—but it felt much longer. He saw a completely soaked Jen sitting on a bench by a bus stop a few yards from the bar. He pulled up as close to the curb as he could get, never mind that it was a no-parking zone.

Jen looked up, the tear trails mingled with the rain on her face, when he opened the car door. She ran towards him and him to her urgently, the icy rain hitting them and freezing their skin. Not noticing the cold bite of the rain, he took her into his arms and held her tightly as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"I have you now. It's okay. I have you. I love you, and I have you. It's okay," he said softly, offering her comfort. The words just came to him. He really didn't realize what it was he said.

"Just hold me. Please, just hold me," she begged, the words mushed into his t-shirt.

"I have you. It's okay. I have you," he kept repeating.

*~*~*~*~*

_April 5, 2009_

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, seeing that she was morose.

"Nothing. I'm just remembering that big fight Nicole and I had," she answered with a heavy sigh. "I probably would have done something really stupid if it wasn't for you."

"BROOKS! Three minutes!" one of the stagehands called, knowing that Punk had a habit of getting distracted by Jen—even if she didn't have her clothes off.

"Go on. You should get down there. I'll be right here when your match is over," she told him. "Go kick ass, Mister Money in the Bank."

Punk smirked and winked at her, conveying exactly how he wanted to celebrate his impending victory. She nodded her head with a large smile.

With one last, quick kiss, Punk departed for the gorilla position. Jen stayed where she was with a happy smile spread across her face. One arm hugged herself across her stomach as her other hand played with the silver angel wings on the necklace around her neck. The warm buzz that always filled her when punk was nearby continued to occupy her senses. Soon, though, the worry replaced the buzz. Punk was booked to win the Money in the Bank Ladder Match, but there were so many things that could go wrong, and she was terrified he'd get badly hurt.

"Jen!"

Her head turned to see the wide grin across the face of the Charismatic Enigma, Jeff Hardy, as he approached. His hair—always an interesting mash of colors—was dyed mostly blue and tied back off his neck. He was in his ring gear for his match against his bother, Matt, later in the night, but he had yet to paint his face.

"Heyya, Hardy!" she called back, happy to see Jeff again. Since Punk was on the Raw roster and Jeff was on Smackdown, she rarely got to see her other favorite wrestler. They hung out at pay-per-views and other occasions when Smackdown! and Raw were in the same city. Over a short time they had become good friends.

"Do Punk left ya all alone? Mind if I keep ya some company?" he asked.

"Not at all," she answered, giving him a friendly hug. He picked her up and squeezed her tightly. She laughed, giddy, and returned it full force.

"do I hear Punk's coming to Smackdown. You're coming with, right?" he asked, a bright light shining from his eyes. He was referring to the WWE Draft that would be occurring next week.

"Of course," she answered with an equally bright smile. "Like I'd miss the chance to hang out with my other favorite wrestler."

Jen was glad Jeff had found her. If he hadn't she probably would have spent the entirety of Punk's match worrying, but instead she had the chance to catch up with her friend.

"Matt n' me are having a party in our room tonight it you're interested," Jeff invited.

"Sounds like fun. Sorry, but Punk and I already have celebration plans," she answered, truly looking apologetic she couldn't make it to the Hardy Party. "I'll see if I can sneak of for a little."

About fifteen minutes later, C.M. Punk's music filled the arena and backstage. A huge smile broke out across Jen's face and she visibly relaxed. Jeff, being totally truthful, would have to admit he as jealous of how much Jen loved Punk, and he wanted to find the woman who loved him that much.

"Promise me you'll be okay, too?" he begged Jeff.

"You kiddin'?" I'll be fine," he answered.

"Good. I still worry about you, too, ya' know," she remarked.

"Yea, I know," Jeff smiled. "Punk's lucky he's got you in his corner."

"Thanks Jeff. It means a lot to me to hear you say that. To tell you the truth, I'm the one who's lucky to have him," she answered with a small smile and nothing but honesty in her voice.

"Al'wight girl, before you give me a cavity from how sweet you're being, go n' find your boy," Jeff commanded, giving her a playful spank and wink to send her off.

She stuck her tongue out at him with a wide smile before heading off to meet up with Punk. Jeff watched with a slightly bitter smile and wondered, for not the first time, why Jennifer had to dump Punk's drink on Punk and not himself.


	10. Chapter 10

IT's now 9 to 7 in favor of Pepsi. I'm trying to figure in where that will become important. Soon, hopefully. I knew what i wanted to do with it, but now I can't make it work. Dammit!

Anyway, after over a week of me delaying, here is the next part. I'm a little nervous, so any feedback will be met by my undying love. Thnxs. SKG

BTW, How many people saw that coming on Friday? I mean really. As soon as McMahon came out I said it was either going to be Morrison or Matt would be coming back. Still an awesome match.

P.S. I hear Jeff's leaving the WWE. Say it isn't so!

**Killing Loneliness**

_October 16, 2008_

"Babe, I can't make it better if I don't know what's wrong," he said softly, trying to calm her down.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, pushing his hands off of her. "What isn't wrong? My best friend—or the woman I thought was my best friend—just stabbed a burning hot poker through my back! She had an abortion!"

Punk blinked, surprised by her ire and sorrow, and decided it wouldn't be a good idea to tell her he was pro-choice.

"She knows what I went through, yet she did it anyway! She didn't even tell Alex that she was pregnant!"

Punk was immediately lost again. "Babe, you have to talk to me. Tell me what happened," he said again, gently pulling her back against his chest and rubbing little circles on her back comfortingly.

Jen's shoulders shook as she cried into his t-shirt. Her emotional state was a complete mess. She was so upset that when Punk took her back to her apartment, she wouldn't get out of his car. She just gave him her key and vague instructions on which drawer contained what articles of clothing. When he entered the apartment, he found an equally upset Nicole crying on the couch. She wouldn't tell him anything other than,, "We fought."

So he took her to his apartment. He hadn't imagined she'd be in tears the first time he brought her here, but if things always worked out the way they were supposed to they never would have met in the first place.

"You'll hate me. I hate me," he gasped through the tears, trembling from crying so hard. She wasn't in her wet clothed anymore—Punk had made sure she changed out of them into dry clothes. She was physically warm in her black sweatpants and his sweatshirt, but it did nothing to ward away the cold she felt.

"I won't hate you, I promise. It's okay. You can trust me," he said softly, still holding her close to him.

It was a few minutes before Jen was able to speak clearly. She wiped her eyes with her hand and took a few more stabling breaths before starting. She wouldn't meet his eyes though, and she hugged her arms across herself defensively despite him holding her. "When I was sixteen I was with a guy I shouldn't have been with—he was older than me," she started, her voice quiet. "I was so stupid, but he told me he loved me and that I was beautiful. I hadn't been told "I love you" by a man since my dad had died, so I believed him," she confessed.

"Jen, I don't care about guys you were with before—"

"I got pregnant," she broke his statement with a whisper. "I denied it at first. Only stupid girls got themselves pregnant, and I wasn't a stupid girl. I still went out and partied and drank and I never said, "No," or, "Stop," when he hurt me—and he _liked_ to hurt me," she continued, taking little sobbing breathes.

Punk didn't know what to say, and in his shock his protective embrace faltered slightly. It was enough for Jen to take a few steps away from him and sink to the floor against the wall, hugging her knees.

"Bambi knew. She knew what I was trying so hard to hide. I didn't even tell her and she knew," she continued in a low voice. "At first I hated her for knowing and not buying into my lie like everybody else. But I wasn't taking care of myself—I was destroying myself and the baby inside of me. Nicole's right. I am just a selfish bitch," she said with raw pain in her voice.

Punk, his jaw stiff, sat down slowly next to her and gathered her against him again. She buried her face into his chest again, hiding herself. He held her tightly as she broke down. She was so upset she couldn't even cry. Her voice just stayed flat as she told more. "She made me go to the doctor. I didn't want to, but when I saw the picture of my baby on the ultrasound, I changed my mind. I loved that baby. It was a part of me. But I had already messed things up so much. There's a reason you're not supposed to drink when you're pregnant. Around the 25th week, they saw something on the ultrasound—or a lack of a something more like. Thanks to my drinking and partying and bad habits, my baby had a heart defect they couldn't fix. I didn't want to deal with it, and I was scared, and I got an abortion. I felt so empty. I had left him a few weeks before, but I went back to him. When I told him, he said, 'Good. I don't want to be stuck taking care of a kid anyway,'" she whispered, her whole body shaking.

"Jen, it's—" He couldn't bring himself to say "okay." "I'm here," he said instead, kissing her hair—still damp from the rain—and holding her tighter.

"I hate myself so much," she sobbed, almost hysterical. It was some time before she was calm enough again to speak. When she could talk, the first thing she said was, "How can you even look at me?" She finally met his eyes that were clouded with concern.

"Because I don't hate you, Jen. I can look at you because you're still the most beautiful woman in my life. You're hurting, and I hate seeing you hurt, but I'm not going to leave you for this."

"I don't deserve you," she said softly, resting her head back on his shoulder. "Kaily," she whispered a few moments later.

"Huh?"

"Kaily. That's what her name would have been," Jen answered.

"It's pretty," he responded, his voice soft.

What he should have been doing at nearly two in the morning was sleeping. He had a flight in the morning at seven thirty, which meant he'd have to leave in about four hours to get to the airport and through security in time. But Jen needed him, and the only place she could stay right now was there.

"Come on; let's get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning," he promised.

"I don't want to go to sleep. You leave in the morning," she answered. "I don't want you to leave yet."

"But I have to," he said. "I can't not go."

"I know."

*~*~*~*~*

Hours later when Punk was trying to get dressed so he could leave, he kept glancing back at Jen, still asleep and curled around the pillow he had substituted himself with. She slept with a small smile on her lips in the center of his bed. His male pride was pleased to see her sleeping so soundly, especially after the breakdown she went through the night before.

He left his spare key on the table next to a note telling her to stay as long as she wanted, along with an envelope containing about two hundred dollars for her if she chose to stay. Punk was well aware that there was minimal food in the apartment (mostly since he was rarely home), and didn't want his girlfriend to die of starvation while he was on the road.

Jen must of felt his eyes on her because she slowly blinked her bright green eyes and yawned almost silently. She sat up and glanced next to her, only she didn't see Punk.

"Hey," he said softly, zipping up his duffle bag full of his gear.

She turned her head in his direction and smiled until she remembered that he would be leaving. "What would your boss do if I called him and told him you couldn't make your flight because I had you tied up?"

"Kinky," he remarked. "I gotta go. I can't stay."

"I know," she answered, and Punk had to pull his eyes away from her. It was too tempting just to drop his bags and crawl back into bed.

"Next week come with me," he said, surprising himself.

She blinked again, but this time in mild shock. "What?"

"Come with me next week," he said again, setting his bag on the floor after all. He sat on the edge of the bed and faced her.

"I can't. My job," she answered immediately.

"Alex'll understand. He'd let you go," Punk pressed, determined now to get her to agree.

"He can't afford to give me that kind of time off," she answered back, hugging the pillow across her lap.

"I miss you," he said softly. "I'm so use to putting work before a relationship, but it gets harder to leave every time," he continued, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. She leaned into his touch and moved to wrap her arms around his neck in a tender hug. Her sweet scent filled his senses, and he buried his nose in her hair.

"We both knew it'd be like this," she said sadly.

"It wasn't like this with other girls."

"Good. Then I don't have to wonder if you'll keep coming back," she answered, resting her head on her favorite place—his shoulder. It was strong and tough and stable, and he tucked her head under his chin protectively.

"Just for a few days? For my birthday?" he tried again, actually using the birthday card for once in his life. He never put much stock in birthdays, but she might. It was worth the try if it worked.

"And when is that anyway?" she asked.

"October 26," he answered.

"You're very frustrating," she answered. She bit her bottom lip, so he knew she was going to cave. "I'll talk to Alex tonight."

He grinned his usual crooked grin and pressed his lips to her. She smiled into the kiss and returned it, trying not to think about him leaving.

*~*~*~*~*

_Early morning, April 6_

Several hours after leaving the arena, Punk and Jen were as close as they could get to each other in their hotel room, despite the fact that they were in a king-sized bed. They laid on their sides sharing one pillow, face to face. His thumb made little circles low on her back as his other hand served as a prop for his head. He watched her sleep with a soft smile on his lips. Her soft skin was so hot against his, but he wouldn't have it any other way. She nuzzled her head gently against his chest in her sleep, nearly accidently catching a few strands of her hair on one of his nipple rings. Very carefully so he didn't disturb her, he untangled the few strands.

"Pillows don't move," she mumbled anyway.

He grinned at the statement that was so similar to something she had said the first time they had slept together. "Good thing I'm not a pillow," he teased.

"No. You're better. You're a boyfriend-pillow," she uttered back softly.

"I guess I can live with that."

"Damn skippy," she answered, finally opening her eyes and kissing his chest. "Is it morning already?"

"Na. Couldn't sleep," he answered, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "And you looked too tired to wake up."

"Well," she started, tracing the lettering over his stomach, "that's weird. Usually I'm the one who can't sleep."

"Yea, usually you ware me out," he grinned with an eyebrow raised teasingly, his thumb still tracing little circles on her back.

"Are sex and wrestling the only things you think about?" she joked.

"Na; I think about sex with you, too," he smirked.

"And you say _I'll_ be the death of you," she grinned back.

"At least I'll go with a big ol' smile, right?" He winked at her and she broke out in giggles. For being such a "good boy," Phil was a very dirty-minded man. He was sweet and an incredible guy, but he was still a guy. At least she didn't have to worry about other women—he was a pervert with morals and standards, a truly rare find.

"You know I love you, right?" she asked, suddenly quite serious. "Because I do. I really do."

"Good, 'cause I love you, too."


	11. Chapter 11

Well, RAW tomorrow looks like it might actually be interesting for once in a long while...I feel like I'm watching the same match over and over everytime.

I'm sorry about all the boring emotional stuff, but that's mostly what this chapter is. It's important, so don't you dare skip it. I'll be waiting eagerly to hear back from you all with your thoughts.

SKG

**Killing Loneliness**

_October 21, 2008_

"Bambi, I think I love him," Jen sighed into her cell phone.

"I hope so. You've been with him for a while, haven't you?" her sister teased on the other end of the phone connection. "He's letting you stay at his place while he's gone, isn't he?"

"Yea, he is," Jen answered. "He should be back today, unless his flight got delayed."

"Did you talk to Nicole yet?" Bambi asked softly, knowing the subject was still sensitive.

"Outside of work-stuff? No. I'm just—I can't, Bambi. I can't talk to her anymore. It's—we fight. All the time. I don't even know about what anymore, but we do. I was so ready to go back to Philly this last time."

"You hate it here," Bambi reminded gently.

"Well, if it wasn't for Phil, Chicago wouldn't be much better," Jen answered, pulling the ponytail holder from her hair. She was sitting in the living room of Phil's apartment. He had a very nice place for an apartment he was rarely at. She had gone back to her and Nikki's apartment to get a few changes of clothing and other personal items, but had mostly spent the last four days here.

"I just want you to be happy," Bambi responded, and Jen knew her sister had a small, sad smile on.

"He wants me to go with him," she told her, her fingers playing with the fraying edge of an old throw blanket she had across her lap.

"You should go."

"I feel bad leaving Alex short-handed. He and Nikki aren't talking 'cause they're both trying to pretend she didn't do it, and it just sucks. I hate it."

"Honey, if I know Nicole—and believe me, I know her very well—she and Alex will get through this. You just worry about yourself, okay? Go; have a good time with your boyfriend and give Nikki and Alex the space they need to work out their issues."

"Bambi, what would I do without you?" Jen asked rhetorical. Absently, she sighed. She hadn't meant to. It just slipped out.

"What's wrong?" Bambi asked, her soft voice full of concern.

"Huh?"

"Something's bothering you. You're sighing," she answered.

"Yea…all of this just feels…like too much. I mean, I've never was even over here before and now I practically moved in without Phil even being here. And he wants me to go with him next week, and it's…it's a lot. I love him, but this is all crazy."

"Does it feel right?" Bambi asked, and Jen knew what she meant.

"It feels…perfect," she answered honestly. "It's just…I think I like him this much because we don't see each other all the time, so when we can see each other, it means more. I _want_ to see him. I miss seeing him. But I don't even know if we could stand seeing each other that much."

"You haven't spent more than a day or two at a time with each other, have you?" Bambi asked gently.

"No. And he's always spent the night at Nikki and my place," Jen responded.

"Well, all I can say is if you fell uncomfortable, then you should go back to your apartment for a while. Slow things down. Or maybe you should tell him how you feel."

"But every time I see him my brain goes all fuzzy," she sighed again.

Unknown to Jen, as she was talking to her sister, Punk was just outside the door thumbing with his keys. He was trying to be quiet just in case Jen was there so he could surprise her. He had his signature crooked grin across his face, almost hoping that she did stay. He had been thinking a lot about their relationship—something he didn't really do often. Even when he was with Maria, his career had been more important. But he was actually thinking about where Jen fit into his life, and how they were going to make this work with his crazy and sometimes unpredictable schedule.

If he wasn't on a pay-per-view, they had maybe two or three days together. She worked, too, so they usually had less time than that. Hopefully Jen had been able to get time off from Alex and could go with him for the next couple of shows.

Finally he found the right key, but before he could open the door, his elderly neighbor poked her head out her door.

"Is that you, Philip?" she asked.

"Hello, Mrs. Richardson," he greeted courteously.

"There's a strange woman staying in your apartment," she remarked, getting straight to the point. That was one thing he liked about her—she never bat around the bush. That, and she made one kick-ass stuffing around Thanksgiving.

"I know. She's cool. Her name's Jen," he answered. "She might be around more often," he added, his grin growing wider if anything.

"She's a good girl. You take care of her," the _seemingly_ frail woman cautioned with a little chuckle. She laughed at some private joke before going back into her own apartment and closing the door behind her.

Punk blinked and wondered how that woman could say so much without saying much at all. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he opened the door and stepped into the little foyer-area as quietly as he could.

He heard Jen almost immediately.

"Well, he's really good to me, and he's really sweet, Bam. After that fight with Nikki when I broke down, he didn't just leave me—not even when I told him about Kaily," she said softly, but he could still hear her. She was in the living room. His crooked grin turned into a soft smile as he listened to her speak. Silently, he set his bags on the floor and continued moving through his apartment towards her.

He saw her before she saw him. She was sitting in his chair with her legs crossed underneath her. It looked like all she was wearing was one of his old t-shirts, which turned the soft smile back into the wide grin.

"He told me he loves me," she continued, and he was immediately confounded, trying to remember when he said that. he did love her, but he didn't remember ever telling her that. "When he picked me up after Nikki and I fought," she continued before pausing again as the person she was talking to spoke. "I don't know. I was crying and he was holding me, and he just was talking. I don't think he knows he said it."

Jen nodded and laughed lightly at whatever the other person said back to her. "I miss him, Bam. No, not yet," she added a few moments later. Though she was listening to her sister, she couldn't help but feel like she was being watched. She turned her head and immediately her expression lightened as she saw him leaning against the archway between the small hallway and the living room.

"Bambi, I gotta go," she said. "No, it's all good. Punk's home," she smiled wide. "Love you, too. Bye."

She set her phone down and looked at him with a teasing grin on her lips. "How long have you been there?"

"A minute or two," he answered vaguely. "You look comfortable."

Jen blushed lightly and asked, "Do you mind that I stayed?"

'No," he responded with a little shrug of his shoulders. "I like seeing you here. I like coming back and seeing you."

She smiled widely and rose to her feet. "Are you going to keep standing there or are you going to come here and say, "Hello?"

His grin in place, he crossed the room in a few steps. "Hello," he said softly before kissing her. Her arms wrapped around his neck as his hugged around her waist.

Needless to say Jen spent the night.

*~*~*~*~*

The next morning Punk woke up feeling satisfied and a little smug. He lifted his head off of his pillow and yawned. He rolled his shoulders and winced at the audible crack his joints made. Sometimes being almost thirty sucked.

As the mental fog cleared, he realized that he was alone in his bed, and the rest of the bed was cool. Wondering where Jen had gone, he glanced over at the digital clock on the bedside table to see it was just after eight o' clock in the morning.

The next thing he realized was that he had to piss. With another yawn he got up and mechanically grabbed a pair of boxers as he made his way towards the door to the hallway. He scratched the back of his neck as he headed into the bathroom, hitting the light switch as he did. he blinked as the bright light blinded him for a moment.

His eyes still adjusting to the light, he shuffled to the toilet. Grumbling a bit, he picked up the seat and proceeded to do his business.

After washing his hands and slipping on his boxers, he headed out towards the living room. Before he got there, however, he heard the radio in the kitchen. He headed there instead.

At the sink washing dishes by hand was Jennifer. She was only wearing a little pair of boyshorts and a white wifebeater. Her hips popped along to the music. She must of heard him, tough, because he turned as he entered the kitchen.

'Morning," she smiled, setting down the plate she just washed onto the counter. She turned around again and faced him. Through her thin tang top he could see her dusky-rose nipples as the fabric strained across her breasts. The bird of paradise tattoo and the bar through her belly button were also visible through the shirt.

"How long you been up?" he asked, still groggy.

"I don't know. An hour or so," she shrugged. "I didn't want to wake you up. You seemed really tired last night.

"Jet lag and you," he grinned, heading over to the fridge. Opening the door he noticed there was a carton of orange juice. He took it out and opened it up before drinking some straight from the container. Jen winced as he did so, but he didn't noticed.

Punk wiped at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before screwing the cap back onto the nozzle. He set it back inside the fridge before turning back to Jen. "You work tonight?"

"Actually, Alex told me to take the next week off," she answered, her tone suggesting that they were disusing something as inane as the weather.

A wide smirk broke out across his features as her words penetrated the mental haze left over from sleep. "You're serious?"

"Yea," she answered, turning back to the dishes.

She didn't see his grin turn devious as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She jumped at first, surprised by his action. She nearly dropped the bowl she had in her hands onto the floor before relaxing against him.

"So what do I have to do to get you on that plane with me?" he asked, nuzzling the top of her head with his nose, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo.

She bit her lower lip in an effort to suppress the stupid grin that threatened to break out across her face…again. She set the bowl down in the sink again before turning around in his arms to face him. She rested her head on his shoulder like she had become so accustomed to doing. His hands settled low and cupped just under her shapely rump.

"So?" he asked again.

"Does this…does this feel like it's too much?" she asked instead of answering his question. "Like we're going to fast or something?" she continued, glancing up to met his olive eyes. All the insecurity she was feeling was plain in her own green eyes. She was looking to him for assurance.

"I don't know, I know I like you and I like this and I want you to be with me," he answered, his voice gentle. He didn't know what prompted her to ask him that, but he was determined not the scare her off. One hand moved up to cup her cheek. He smile, but instead of his crooked grin, it was a soft smile that showed only tenderness.

"So it doesn't bother you that I practically moved in here while you were away?" she asked. She was determined to work this out before she lost the ability to think rationally again. Bambi told her to slow things down if she was uncomfortable—great advice, but the issue with it was that Jen didn't know if she was uncomfortable or not.

"You didn't mess with my comics, did you?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

He first thought was, "what the hell does that have to do with anything?" she responded with a, "No."

"Then it doesn't bother me," he answered, the hand on her cheek sliding back to play with some of her hair.

"Then I guess I'm getting on that plane with you—but only because it's your birthday," she finally relented, answering his earlier question.

*~*~*~*~*

_Extreme Rules_

_June 7, 2009 _

"Don't you dare accuse me of cheating on you! Yea, I care about him; he's my friend. Dammit, I love you, and damned if I know why anymore!"

"'Care about him!' You fucking kissed him!" he roared, cornering her with a slam of his open palm on the wall by her head. His olive eyes burned as he chest heaved.

"He kissed me, you asshole!" she screamed, shoving at his chest. As it was he outweighed her by nearly a hundred pounds, and so shoving him did little to move him.

"And you didn't try to stop him," he snarled. He didn't hit her—even as mad as he was he would never hit her—but his demeanor truly frightened her. His tense, aggressive stance plainly said that if he did decide to, he could hurt her. It was just like Corey's possessive, dominating actions that more often that not had put her in the hospital.

"Get away from me, Philip, or I'll really start screaming!" she threatened in a hiss, her usage of his full first name showing how serious she was.

Stiffly, his hand lowered away from the wall, but he didn't back off. "I knew he'd try something, but I never thought you would let him," he growled out.

"Listen up, you son of a bitch," she growled back, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I'm telling you right now that I've been hurt enough times to be able to walk away from you. Sure, it'll hurt like hell for a while, but I'll get over it. Eventually I'll be able to hate you. So keep pushing!"

"Go ahead! Run! That's all you fucking do. You ran from Philadelphia, you ran from Chicago! Keep running from your fucking problems. See where that gets you!"

Her expression hardened, and with a loud SMACK, her palm connected with his cheek, sending his head snapping to the side. She brushed him aside as he stood stunned with a hand to his jaw. She made it to the door before he snarled, "Where the hell are you going?"

"I think I'm going to find Jeff," she answered with a too-sweet voice. "Because unlike my prick of a boyfriend, Jeff knows how to have a good time. Maybe I'll have a few beers, smoke a cigarette or two, and show him a _real good time_ back in his hotel room," she baited before slamming the door behind her.


	12. Chapter 12

It seems we have reached a transition. There's less past in this one and more "current" timeline...sort of. Let me know what you think, my adoring readers. I love reviews. Did I mention they help me write faster?

--SKG

**Killing Loneliness**

_Tuesday, April 28, 2009 in New York_

_Taping for May 1, 2009 edition of Smackdown!_

Jen couldn't think of a moment she had been more excited…or terrified.

The week after the Draft, a camera man following one of the interviewers to a wrestler had unknowingly stumbled across her and Punk cuddling backstage, and for some reason the forums on buzzed for a little on just who the mysterious woman CM Punk was cozying up to in the clip was. Despite the fact that it happened on accident, Stephanie McMahon later asked Jennifer if she would be available for a few tapings. Stunned, she tried to say she had a job she had to get back to, but Punk shot that down by saying, "You're here for them anyway. You might as well get paid for it." So she made a few more appearances here and there as Mysterious Girlfriend of CM Punk. That was even the name the creative department put her few lines in the script under.

In one clip she had even been in nothing more than an over-sized bath towel. Someone—she couldn't even remember who—was supposed to have been looking for Punk to talk about their match and checked his locker room for him only to find a freshly showered Jen in Punk's locker room. All she had to do was scream, and in came Punk who slammed the door shut.

But for this Smackdown!, she was actually going to make a bigger showing than as Mysterious Girlfriend. After Punk's match with Adam, Eddie, playing the brute Umaga, was set to attack him from behind before he could cash in Money in the Bank. Edge at that point would regain consciousness and threaten to attack Punk with his own briefcase. Jeff, who would be the new #1 Contender for Edge's title, would come out and stop him while Jen was to run out and fuss over Punk. This would be the first time she'd ever appear before any actual fans, and Jen was freaking out over it.

To think a few months ago she was reluctant to even go with Punk on the road! Thankfully the little stomach bug that had been going around (which she had had the misfortune to catch) had relented and she was fit to attend, otherwise the whole world would be seeing what she ate for dinner rather than the intended programming.

"Ya ready?" Jeff whispered, waiting for Edge to start getting up.

"No!" she gasped, nervous that she would trip on the heels she was in, or that she'd be too slow, or a thousand offer scenarios.

"Hey, it's no sweat," Jeff winked. "'Sides, you're just 'post to be worried 'bout him, ain't ya? You'll be fine." He glanced back to see Adam rising to his feet and heading for the metal briefcase. "Time to go, Jen," he warned before taking off through the gorilla and out onto the stage.

She took off after him, almost stumbling as she ran in the heels. Thankfully, she caught herself in time. The noise from the crowd was over whelming, but she ignored it and focused on getting to Punk. Jeff attacked Adam as she made it to the ring. He had Adam on the mat in position for a Swanton Bomb while she ran around the edge of the ring to get to Punk.

Panting for her lost breath, she touched his face tenderly and tried not to laugh as he faked writhing in agony. He winked at her playfully before grimacing again, and she had to force herself to keep a worried expression across her face. Playing the part of a concerned girlfriend, she helped Punk roll out of the ring and supported him as he made his way toward the ramp. Behind her she could hear Jim Ross and Todd Grisham doing their commentary and expressing surprise at her appearance and the impact Jeff Hardy's statement as the #1 Contender made before wishing the (future) viewing audience a good night and reminding them to tune in next week.

Jeff's music blared as she and Punk made it to the gorilla.

"Nice, but when Steph said you'd be coming to my aid I imagined you in a little nurse's uniform," Punk joked with another wink.

"Perv," she admonished, breathless from her excitement. "Wow. I can't believe I just did that."

"I can," Punk said, straightening up and stretching his back. He rubbed at a sore spot on his jaw before saying, "Nice job. I felt very rescued." The best part was that he said that with a straight face.

"Hey," came Jeff Hardy's voice as he joined them.

"Fuck, Hardy, show a little mercy," Adam added as he came back, too. He held his ribs tenderly. Having someone who weighed about two-hundred twenty pounds land on one's midsection was not a fun experience. Painfully, not fun.

"You're in the wrong business for mercy, Edge-head," Jeff laughed. "I don't know 'bout yas, but I'm gonna get mah a shower and head to the hotel. I'm beat."

Adam expressed a similar sentiment and headed backstage with Jeff.

"You know I'm not letting you near me smelling like that," Jen said before Punk could even try anything.

"Spoilsport," he answered. "Well, if the lady demands it, I will go shower, too."

"I demand it," she ordered. "Go. Get clean, and then we can go get sweaty again back at your room."

"I like these plans."

*~*~*~*~*

_June 7, or maybe 8, 2009_

The last thing an achy Jeff Hardy was expecting was for someone to be urgently knocking on his hotel room door. He was sore from his ladder match to begin with, and he had a massive headache from the two GTS's he had been subjected to. For some reason Phil had been uncharacteristically vicious. Jeff hoped that Phil hadn't seen him backstage with Jen when he had…well, done something he really shouldn't have done. Not like he hadn't done things he shouldn't have done before.

The knocking continued at his door. "Give mah a minute!" he shouted, grabbing a pair of jeans and pulling them up his legs and over his boxers. As he buttoned up his pants, he made his way to the door.

He undid the lock and opened the door with a tired, "Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

Correction—the last thing an achy Jeff Hardy was expecting was for Jen (wearing a pair of short cloth shorts and a tight black tank top that she obliviously slept in, and Punk's sweatshirt she always wore) to be urgently knocking at his hotel door. She looked like she was just about to break down, and her shoulders shook. "What happened?" he asked as he let her into his room.

Still desperately trying to keep herself together, Jen sunk down onto the edge of the queen-sized bed—the only bed in his room. "Close the door," she said quietly.

Jeff was so tired that he hadn't even realized he left the door open. He closed it again and re-bolted it quickly before turning back to her. "Jen?" he asked.

"Can I stay her tonight?" she asked in a surprisingly level voice for how visibly upset she was. She hugged her knees to her chest on the edge of the bed and huddled inside the too-big shirt.

"What happened?" he asked again, his southern drawl thickened by his confusion and surprise. He sat down next to her and said plainly, "Come on. Talk to mah." His accent was comforting to her. It wasn't as thick as Alex's, but it had always been familiar.

"Can I stay or can't I?" she pressed, still not answering his question,.

"You think I'd toss ya out when you're like this?" he asked, feeling slightly betrayed. "'Course you can stay; now what the hell happened, Jen? Did you and Punk fight or something?'

"That son of a bitch thinks I'm cheating on him."

As if he hadn't been feeling shitty enough, cold, harsh guilt filled him. "He saw?" he stated more than asked. Great.

"Yea. He saw," she answered anyway, her voice oddly flat. "And if you say that you're sorry, I'll—I'll—I'll start walking back to Philadelphia, so help me," she threatened,, cutting him off as he opened his mouth.

He closed his mouth again and shielded his eyes with his tattooed hand. "But I am," he told her sincerely, and he was. He was sincerely sorry that she and Punk had fought (well, he was mostly sorry—there was just that little part in him that rejoiced), but he wasn't sure he was completely sorry for kissing her.

"Well, don't be," Jen responded with a sigh before turning back to him to meet her green eyes to his. "Jeff, you're my best friend, and I need your help right now. I can't do this by myself." A tear escaped from her eye and fell down her cheek. She looked so lost and lonely.

Jeff pulled her against him and let her cry silently into his chest as he held her. He hated that he was happy that Jen was leaving Punk (she was, wasn't she? Why else would she come _here_?). He hated that he was happy he was the reason she was leaving Punk. He hated that he was happy he was the one she came to. Most of all he hated that he didn't want to let her go. He knew he should feel more guilty for causing Jennifer and Punk to split, but he couldn't bring himself to feel that guilty considering how jealous he was that Punk had Jen.

When he kissed her, she had looked so pretty and so happy. They had been the only people left in Catering and he was keeping Jen company during Punk's Samoan Strap Match with Eddie. All he had was a bottle of water, but she was snacking on a thing of Runts candy. They were just talking—mostly about the storyline Jeff and Punk were going to be starting later that night, and whether or not she'd be making any appearances.

She was smiling! She hadn't smiled in a while. He knew there was something going on between Jen and Punk, but she would never tell him what. He just knew things weren't perfect between them. Honestly, Jeff missed seeing her smile. She didn't smile when Punk was around anymore.

But she smiled for him, and that smile was dazzling and brilliant and worth a thousand watts. He was overjoyed just being with her, but he felt something powerful when he looked at her.

"Do ya think we'd ever work out if we got together?" he asked her, surprising her.

Thinking he was just messing around and faux-flirting like usual, Jen had answered, "I don't know. Maybe."

Despite the fact that anyone could walk by, despite the fact that she had a boyfriend, despite a million things, he leaned down and forward to kiss her. She tasted sweet like the candy she was eating and slightly like the banana and strawberry pieces she preferred over all the rest (he bet Punk didn't know that strawberry and banana Runts were her favorite), and her lips were so soft. For a moment, one glorious moment, she had kissed him back, but then she pulled back, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

"I need to go," she offered before turning tail and walking very quickly out of the room, leaving him behind.

Repressing the memory of her lips against his, he told her gently, "I'm here for you," as he rubbed her back in small circles. He ignored the soft silk of her hair against his cheek and the warmness of her in his arms. He had been so envious of Punk for being the one to hold her, but he never wanted Jen to be crying when he got his chance.

"I'm pregnant, Jeff," she whispered. "I was going to tell him tonight, but now I don't even think I could look at the bastard."

Jeff nearly choked when she said that. Jen was pregnant? Again he felt that mix of sharp envy and guilt. She was having a baby…and Punk didn't know what he was throwing away. "What are ya going to do?" he asked her in a soft, sympathetic tone as he tried not to upset her or betray his feelings about it.

"I don't know," she answered. "I really don't know, Jeff, and I've never been more scared in my whole life."

*~*~*~*~*

When Jen left the first thing Punk did was find the first gym open late that had a full size punching bag and worked out his anger. His iPod blasted loud, fast, and angry music through his head phones as his feet, knees, elbows, and fists repeated connected with the heavy bag.

There was something so relaxing about a good workout. All the tension he felt just disappeared with the activity, and he could focus his mind on the therapeutic rhythm instead of the emotional turmoil he had been feeling.

After about an hour or so his muscles burned pleasantly from his intense workout. The bag still swung from the force he had beat it with. Well, he wasn't angry anymore. He was kind of numb actually, maybe just a little disappointed. That argument he had with Jen played in his mind over and over, and he felt like the world's biggest douche.

Still, he had seen the way Jeff was looking at Jen—like he wanted so badly for her to turn and see him the same way he saw her. He looked at her like man dying of thirst or hunger, and she was the only thing that could sustain him. Punk didn't like that Jeff looked at her like that. In fact, he firmly believed that he was the only man who had the right to look at Jen like that.

If Jeff was just a friend…well, he might not have like it, but he could have dealt with it.. there was a definite line that friends did not cross, and Punk always had the knowledge that it was his bed Jen slept in. But now Jeff had crossed that line, and he had seen Jen cross it with him.

The worst part wasn't even that Jen didn't stop him. No, the worst part was that until then he had considered Jeff a good friend of his. He had never thought that Jeff would actually do anything. Obviously he had given Jeff more credit than he deserved.

After his match he had gone looking for Jen since she wasn't waiting for him like usual. Maria (perhaps one of the very few ex-girlfriends he was still on good terms with) had told him she last saw Jen in Catering with Jeff, so that was where he went. As soon as he stepped into the room he saw Jeff and Jen connected by their lips. In his mind he could still see Jeff's hands on her waist and her palm curled over his chest. The only reason he turned away and left was because if he didn't, then he would of beat Jeff so badly that Jeff wouldn't have made it to the ring for his match.

So he found a secluded little spot and brooded, building up his steam until it was time for CM Punk to crash the Hardy Party. After ward he didn't say a word to Jen until they were in the privacy of his hotel room, and then the accusations flew. At least now he knew why she was being so distant lately.

"Dammit," he muttered aloud, punching the bag again to vent out the new sense of anger and betrayal he was feeling.


	13. Chapter 13

Hey all,

It's been a hard two weeks with school messing up my schedule, and then Jeff left the WWE, so there went one of my muses! At least I still have Punk to look at.

I also just started going through the Dirt Sheet clips...how did i miss that gold?

--SKG

P.S. I'm sorry. This chapter is totally different than the usual style.

**Killing Loneliness**

It was three in the morning by the time Punk went back to his hotel room. He felt a lot calmer then before and felt less like killing someone (namely Jeff Hardy), but he was more than a little upset when Jen wasn't there. Her phone, however, was. When he saw the phone he felt a conflicting mix of hope and fear. The phone's presence meant that she had to come back to get it, but it also meant that he had no way of contacting her or finding out where she was.

"Fuck," he cussed as he threw himself down on the bed and brushed his longish hair out of his eyes with one hand. He had grabbed a quick shower at the gym before he returned, so the still wet strands of hair left a wet-spot on the bedding beneath his head.

He wasn't ready to forgive Jen, but he didn't want her to leave. It wasn't worth losing her over. Jeff wasn't worth losing her over. For all he cared right now, Jeff could go break his neck jumping off a fucking ladder and he wouldn't be sorry.

He stared moodily up at the ceiling. He hated this. He hated fighting with her. They had had argued before (what couple didn't?), but they had never fought so viciously before. Tonight they should have been celebrating—Punk had won the World Heavy Weight Championship, which was the biggest push the company could give a wrestler. They were supposed to be on top of the world instead of so low.

If asked, he could name just when things had changed between him and Jen. It had been shortly after the draft when he moved to the Smackdown! roster and she started seeing Jeff more. They hadn't started out screaming at each other, but he could tell that she had been distracted…like she wasn't all there when she was with him. Then a week or two later she had gotten sick—she had gotten that nasty stomach virus that had ravaged the locker room (which by some weird twist of fate he managed to avoid). Instead of getting better in a few days, she had stayed nauseous for a few weeks.

Punk wasn't an idiot. He knew there was something up with Jen that she wasn't telling him, and he hated that she didn't trust him enough to tell him what it was that was bothering her. He already knew about Kaily, and he already knew all about Corey. He also knew that Jen wouldn't tell Jeff about either of those chapters of her life, no matter how good friends they were—Nikki hadn't even known until years after it happened and Jen only had told Punk because she was having a breakdown. What else could she be hiding?

He briefly considered giving Jen's sister Bambi a call in order to find out what she knew, but he doubted that she'd tell him anything. She was highly protective of her little sister, and that was something he could understand. If Jen asked her not to tell, then she wouldn't tell. He even debated calling Nicole, but she liked him even less than Bambi did. If Bambi wouldn't help him, it would be a cold day in Hell before Nikki'd help him with this. He could make a few calls to the Divas, but it was unlikely that any of the women would answer their phones this late (or this early depending how one looked at it).

Somehow, even with his mental torment, he managed to slip into sleep, though he didn't sleep long. By seven he was awake again, and at even more unease when he saw no sign of Jen having returned to the room. All of her stuff was still there, and he had the keys to the rental car, so he was fairly certain she hadn't taken off.

Hoping that she had tried to call him, he checked his cell phone for any missed calls. None, not even a text message.

Feeling a mix of anger and worry, he paced back and forth for a while before becoming frustrated. Unable to stop pacing, he pulled off the clothes he had slept in and changed into jeans and an old t-shirt. He pulled his hair into a messy ponytail so it stayed out of his eyes.

Still jittery, he turned the TV across from the bed on in an effort to distract himself, but he was too preoccupied with the absence of his girlfriend to pay any attention to whatever was on the screen.

After a few minutes he finally gave up. He pressed the off button on the remote and threw it down on the bed spread. He grabbed his key to the room and his phone before leaving in order to take a little walk to clear his mind. If he stayed in there much longer by himself, he'd drive himself crazy.

The hotel many of his coworkers and he were staying in was quite large. There was even a little gym with running equipment, an indoor, heated pool, and a sauna on one floor. As far as he knew there was even a little coffee shop on the same floor as the lobby.

He wondered around by himself for a little while, but before long he heard someone call his name.

"Hey, Phil!"

Turning, he saw John Hennigan just down the hall from him. The other man jogged to catch up. "Oh, hey," he called as the man got closer. "What's up, man?"

"You busy later? A bunch of the guys wanna hit the town before we all ship out. You in?" he asked, his classic smirking smile in place.

"I'll have to get back to you on that," Punk answered. "You wouldn't have happened to have seen Jen, would you? She didn't come back to our room lost night, and I don't think the girls'll like it if I start banging on doors this early," he asked without revealing why she didn't come there.

"You don't know?" John asked, his smile falling.

"Know what?" Punk asked, his eyes narrowing and his weight shifting.

"I'm sorry, man, but I saw Jen go into Jeffro's room last night," John told him with a deep breath as he brushed back his hair.

"Thanks man," Punk answered before turning away. he ignored John's call of his name as he turned down the hallway and headed back the way he came and back to his room. The sense of betrayal was flaring again. His hands curled into fists and his knuckles bulged. He could taste the copper-iron of blood as his gritting teeth sliced through the inside of one of his cheeks. He wanted to punch or kick or destroy something, but the futileness of the action stopped him from putting a hole through the wall.

Somehow he managed not to freak out until he made it back to his room.

"Fuck!" he cussed, slamming the door behind him. "Fucking bitch!" he snapped again just because it made him feel a little better.

Stiffly, he repacked the few belongings of his that were scattered around the roll of his things were packed, he grapped the pad of stationary on the little deck that was part of the room and a pen. He scratched a note for Jen before tossing it carelessly on the bed.

Anger still propelling him, he grapped his bags and left.

*~*~*~*~*

For the first time in months Jeff woke up to someone other than his older brother Matt. In the bed beside him was the tremulous form of Jen, whose face, even in sleep, was conflicted and troubled. It was obvious that she hadn't rested easy. Her hand was on the bed infront of her, reaching towards him seemingly asking for help.

As he threaded his fingers through hers, her eyes blinked open. "Jeff?" she asked softly in confusion, clearly not expecting to see him instead of Punk.

"Yea, that's mah," he answered, giving her a small smile.

"What are you doing—oh," she stopped, a look of melancholy over taking her features. She pulled her hand away from him while a few tears started falling from her eyes. Her arms wrapped almost defensively around herself.

"Hey now, don't cry," he said, reaching to wipe away the droplets.

"Well why shouldn't I?" she demanded, sitting upright and sounding wide awake and aware. "Huh, Jeff? I'm pregnant, and the father of my baby thinks I'm cheating on him! So why shouldn't I cry?"

Jeff sat up beside her and pulled her into a comforting hug. He held her against him as she babbled through the tears, "I love him so much! I didn't mean it when I said I'd hate him! I couldn't ever hate him!"

"I know," he whispered into her hair. "I know." He knew no matter how much he wished otherwise.

"I'm pregnant, and he doesn't even know!" she cried. "I hit him. I said I'd hate him. He told me to go ahead and leave. What am I supposed to do now, Jeff?" she looked at him beseechingly, her green eyes over-filling with unshed tears.

"Ya can come with mah. I'm goin' back ta Cameron. I'm taking a break. I ain't resigning when mah contract runs out," he offered up. He hadn't planned on telling her that he was "retiring," but now seemed as good a time as any. "Ya'd like Cameron."

"You love this!" she gasped out in shock, picking her head up off his chest. Her eyes were wide. "Wrestling's your life."

"Jen, I'm thirty-one. I jump off ladders for a livin'. I need a break. I'll be back. I don't know when, but I'll be back," he comforted. "And there's room for ya in Cameron with mah if ya want it."

"No, Jeff. Stop," she demanded, pulling away from him before settling on the other side of the bed as she wrapped Punk's sweatshirt (which she still had it on) tighter around herself. She took a deep breath and wiped away more tears. "If you ask me again, I'll say yes, and I can't say yes. If I did, Phil would never forgive me, and you know it."

"Ya can do bettah than him an' ya know it," he pressed.

"Jeff, I'm having _his_ baby! I don't want to be with anyone else," she sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here last night. I made everything worse," she continued as she got up off the bed and determinedly brushed aside more tears and haphazardly ran her fingers quickly through her hair. "Maybe it's not a good idea for us to spend so much time together anymore," she finished softly.

"Jen, we didn't do anythin'," Jeff tried to convince her. "I kissed ya. We didn't do anythin'."

"No, Jeff. I kissed you back," Jen responded with far-away eyes. "And that scares me 'cause if everything was okay with Phil and me, then I never would have kissed you back." She turned to face him again and said, "I need to go talk to him."

Before she could leave, Jeff called, "Even if he's not there for ya, I'll always be." He sounded completely sincere, and his eyes showed no dishonesty.

"I won't ask you to take care of another man's baby," Jen vowed.

"Maybe I wanna take care of ya and yar baby," he countered. "Would bein' with mah be so bad?"

Jen's eyes were downcast and her shoulders slumped. Jeff sat up on the bed still with his legs crossed, watching her with concerned eyes. In the barest of whispers, Jennifer answered, "No. It wouldn't be." Under different circumstances she would have jumped at the chance to be with a man as passionate about living as Jeff. They had a lot in common—sometimes more than she and Punk did. As it was, life was complicated. There could be no fairy-tale ride off into the sunset. "But none of that matters, Jeff," she continued, but before Jeff could question her, she added, "I'm having a baby. I didn't think…we didn't know that I could get pregnant." She was crying again, but those tears were slow and silent.

Jeff didn't know what to say, so instead he said nothing.

Jen didn't' realize that Jeff was shocked. She kept rambling since her nerves wouldn't let her stop. "The doctor said I wouldn't be able to get pregnant, ever. She said a lot about scar-tissue building up around my ovaries. Conception would be next to impossible. But I'm pregnant! I having a baby. Phil's baby. This may be the only baby I get to have, and I'm not giving this one up."

"Scar tissue?" Jeff asked in confusion, unable to think of a single reason Jen would have experienced the kind of trauma needed to cause internal scarring that bad.

She sighed and bit her lip, mentally cursing since she had said too much. She was normally much more careful about any allusions to Corey. "Before I left Philadelphia, I was with a real piece of shit. I can't tell you how many times he put me in the emergency room. I can't even tell you the number of times I put myself there because of the habits I picked up for him. He nearly ruined my life, but I won't let him ruin this. I'm going to fight for this. I'm going to fight for Phil."

"Why should ya settle for him?" Jeff demanded, uncurling his legs and sliding off the bed before striding over to her.

"Because he's a good guy, and I can't do that to him. He deserves to know he's going to be a daddy. So he can be a prick! Everyone can be a prick! I love him, Jeff."

"I love you!" he voiced with all the desperation of a shout.

"I'm sorry, Jeff," she answered. "But I can't give you what you want. Goodbye," she finished.

Jeff just let her go.


	14. Chapter 14

Hello again. I'm back. I'm sure everyone's heard the news about Jeff's arrest. All I will say is "Ironic," and that is it.

It is good to be back. I've been working to the bone because of school and my actual job, so I've had limited time to write. That, and this chapter was another one that refused to be written.

SKG

**Killing Loneliness**

_October 26, 2008, Arizona_

Punk was tired and his entire body ached, but it was his fucking birthday and he'd be damned if he spent it locked in his hotel room all night…though the idea held promise for later when Jen made her appearance. As it was he was itching to see "Saw V," and no force alive was going to stop him.

Deciding that he did indeed smell a little ripe, Punk stripped out of his clothes as he headed to the bathroom in the hotel room to take a well deserved hot shower to sooth his aching shoulder (a bad landing had possibly pulled a muscle) and his elbow was bothering him a little.

While he was enjoying the soothing heat of the water on his hurting body, Jen was just returning to their room after a long day spent shopping with the Divas of Monday Night Raw. When she had first gotten the invitation from Mickie, she was going to decline. It was, after all, Punk's birthday, and she had wanted to spend some time with him; however, Punk had told her he would be spending most of the day rehearsing for the show that night and he'd be fine if she wanted to go with. So she went.

Since there wasn't any Diva action scheduled for the night, all of the divas had gone. Punk had previously introduced her to Barbie and Layla, so it wasn't like she was thrown into a group of total strangers. Despite at least knowing someone, she had still felt out of place. The Diva all had their little in-jokes and gossiped about the guys they worked with. It just had made her really miss Nikki.

As she entered the hotel room she saw the path of discarded clothes Punk had left on his way to the bathroom, and she could hear the water running. So Punk was back. She smiled as she kicked off her shoes and set her bags on the floor. It had been a while since she had a chance to really go shopping, and despite the loneliness she had felt, it had felt good to get to indulge. She could really get use to that.

When she had asked him earlier what he wanted for his birthday, he had given her a vague sort of shrug and said, "We'll see." In an incredibly sappy moment that morning, he had told her that her being their was the best birthday she could give him…but at the time he had been trying to get her to come back to bed. Of course that also meant she hadn't a clue as to what to get him. Hell, he would have been happy with a case of Pepsi (though why he liked that shit, she'd never understand) and a new CD he was looking for, but that wasn't the type of gift a girl bought her boyfriend.

The water turned off as Punk finished. She heard him moving in the bathroom. Grinning, she throw herself backward on the bed and lounged bonelessly, knowing that in less than a minute Punk would come out of the bathroom wearing only a pair of boxers (if that at all).

She wasn't disappointed.

The door opened and out stepped Punk rigorously towel drying his hair, clad only in a pair of Scooby Doo boxers. He paused as he realized he was being watch and looked up to see Jen lick her lips. He grinned his half-smirking smile and greeted her with a simple, "Hey."

"Hey right back to ya, Birthday Boy," she teased. "Did you miss me?"

"Parts of you," he answered with a wink, continuing to dry his hair. "Want to do dinner and a movie?"

*~*~*~*~*

Several hours later Jen was very much regretting agreeing to the movie. She shouldn't have been surprised, especially considering the contents of Punk's movie collection) that he wanted to see the new Saw movie. The more gore the better was his reasoning. They did not share that view.

"I cannot believe you made me watch that with you," were the first words out of her mouth when they left the theater.

"Come on, that was awesome!" he protested.

"Awesome? No, not awesome. That was the kind of thing only Rob Zombie and you would like," she joked.

Punk laughed and pulled her closer to him by wrapping an arm around her hip. "Was it that bad?"

"I don't know. Honestly I was too busy clinging to your arm to really pay any attention to the movie," she answered, her hand sliding into his back pocket. "So, Birthday Boy, what do you want to do now?"

"You hungry?"

"Not really. What I want you can't get outside of our hotel room."

The grin on his face showed that he was thinking the exact same thing.

*~*~*~*~*

The door had barely closed behind them before they were ripping at each other's clothes. Punk hurriedly stripped off his t-shirt form over his head as Jen urgently worked at his belt. He tossed it to the floor without giving it another thought. Grinning triumphantly, Jen undid the clasp and pulled Punk's belt off before tossing it aside as well.

Just as urgently Punk worked at loosening the strings on the corset-top Jen had worn as he left a series of sloppy kissed down her neck and bare shoulders. His lip ring—hot from his body heat—dragged over her skin. A thrilling shiver went down her back as Jen helped him get off her top (mostly so he wouldn't rip or tare it in his haste).

Punk's lips curled to his classic half-smirk as the most beautiful pair of breasts (at least the only pair that he cared about) in the world were revealed. Still grinning, he picked Jen up by her hips and she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. They kissed—sloppy and passionate—as he carried her over to the large bed that dominated their hotel room.

Needless to same, it was one of the most enjoyable birthdays of Punk's life.

When Punk woke up the morning after his birthday, he found himself pillowed by something soft, warm, and that seemed to be moving. Fingers ran through his hair, gently working out the tangles. Opening his eyes he realized that the soft, warm, and moving thing he was using as his pillow was his girlfriend, and pillowing his head was his favorite pair of breasts in the word. He was half on top of her with an arm slung across her waist possessively. As comfortable as he was, being half laid on by her larger and heavier boyfriend could not be a pleasant experience for Jennifer, though she didn't complain.

Turning his head slightly, he pressed a kiss against the creamy skin of her breast. "Morning," he mumbled against her flesh.

The fingers in his hair continued to comb through his raven black mane even though all the tangles were gone. "Mmm," Jen hummed as he continued kissing the same pot and nipped at the it lightly with his teeth. He got a gasp from her for his efforts and she sucked at the skin to sooth it. he put his weight down on his left arm so he wouldn't crush her as he pulled back to observe his handy-work. He admired the rosy patch of skin for a moment before leaning in to kiss his half-heartedly pouting girlfriend good morning.

"I love you," Jen whispered when they stopped for air.

Punk stiffened from the surprise of hearing her say it. He knew he had been the first to mention the "L-word" about a week before when Nikki and Jen had fought (but he wouldn't have known if he hadn't overheard Jen's phone conversation with her sister), but it was still a shock to hear her say it.

His shoulders relaxed as he leaning in again to softly kiss the corner of her lips. "I love you, too," he whispered, his lips curved in a relaxed, tranquil smile.

One of her hands was till threading though his hair. The other arm was hooked under his and wrapped around his back, pressing their torsos together.

The feeling of intimacy and warmth was very comforting to both of them, but Punk was shocked out of it with a startling realization. "Last night…we forgot the condom, didn't we?"

Jen bit her lip and realized that he was right—and that she had a lot more reliving of her past to go through. "We did, but you don't need to worry about knocking me up. Corey already took care of that."

"What?"

"I moved away from Philadelphia with Nikki after he tried to kill me. He stabbed me, and now I can't have a baby. So don't worry about getting me pregnant. It'll take an act of god for that to happen," she whispered softly.

"Jen, I don't need kids. I don't even want kids. I don't care," he answered.

*~*~*~*~*

_June 9, 2009_

_Biloxi, Mississippi_

"What the fuck do you want, Hardy?" Punk snapped irritability. Jeff Hardy was the absolute last person he wanted to deal with. He didn't really want to deal with anyone at all. That was why he had made sure his room in that night's hotel was on a different floor than most of his co-workers.

"So we're back ta last names now?" Jeff baited.

"Let's get something straight: I lost all respect I ever had for you the moment you decided to fuck around with my girlfriend," Punk growled out, his eyes narrowed and his stance set ready to attack. "So unless you're looking for a fight, I suggest you leave me the flying fuck alone."

"I ain't lookin' for a fight," Jeff offered with a shrug. "Come on, man. We're friends."

"No, Jeff. Friends don't fuck other friends' girlfriends," he responded coldly.

"Ya really think Jen would do that to ya?" Jeff asked incredibly, shaking his head. "Maybe it'd be easier if she did sleep with mah. I kissed her, not the other way 'round. She ran off. She fuckin' loves ya!"

Punk had a dangerous, tight-lipped smile. "Some how I doubt that. Now get the fuck away from me."

"Ya self righteous little bitch!" Jeff snapped. "Ya think if she was leavin' ya I'd be here? Dammit, she loves ya. Ya know what I'd give for that?"

"What the hell are you her for if you love her so damn much?"

"Because I'll be damned if I let ya hurt her!" Jeff responded, now just as angry as Punk. "I asked her to come back to Cameron with me, but she won't. Ya know why?" he snapped. Before Punk could give a response, Jeff continued, "'Cause she's pregnant, ya asshole."

Punk's angry expression fell into one of confusion. "She's pregnant?"

"Congratulation, fucker. Ya're gonna be a daddy," Jeff growled out. Sure, Jen would be pissed that he spilt her secret to Punk, but she'd get over it. if she wanted to be with Punk, then fine, but there was no way Jeff was going to stand by and watch her get hurt be him.

"If you're fucking with me right now, Hardy…" Punk started that threat, but trailed off. His jaw was tight and his complexion absolutely pale. "How the hell do you know that anyway?"

"'Cause she told me last night while she was cryin' ovah ya," Jeff answered. "I hope ta God all mightly that ya do the right thin', but if ya don't, I'll be more than happy ta take care of her like she deserves."

"If I ever see you sniffing around my girlfriend again, Hardy, I will destroy you," Punk vowed before pushing past Jeff and disappearing down the hallway.

Unknown to either Jeff or Punk, a member of the creative staff had over heard the argument and had just gotten a marvelous idea fro a twist in the Hardy-Punk rivalry.

*~*~*~*~*

Honestly Jen had no idea how she was supposed to face Punk later. She had been told she was going to join JR and Todd on commentary with Punk during Jeff and Adam's match for the position of #1 contender to Punk's new title, and that she was supposed to be upset with Punk for the way he cashed Money in the Bank on Jeff at Extreme Rules. Well, being upset with him would not be an issue. She was upset with him plenty, but she couldn't take more of him being angry at her anymore.

Yesterday when she had gotten back to the hotel room in New Orleans, she had found all of Punk's stuff was gone. He had left a note on the bed telling her to "Make up your fucking mind." When she had tried to call him, he hadn't answered his phone, and he still hadn't called her back. Thankfully she had been able to get a ride to Biloxi from Melina and John (who, while broken up, were still good friends).

Distractedly, her hand settled over her (for now) flat belly and she wondered sadly, how an I going to tell Phil?

She knew he didn't want kids (which had been the main factor behind his easy acceptance of her supposed infertility). In fact, he hated the idea of settling down with a white picket fence, a dog, and the average two-point-five kids. Phil also didn't believe in the idea of marriage (well, neither did she; especially after watching her parents' marriage while she was growing up).

She was pretty certain he wouldn't try to change her mind about keeping the baby, but she would be unable to forgive herself if he came to hate her for tying him down.

Jennifer was so distracted that she didn't realize the man she was brooding over had placed a new can of Coke infront of her and took the seat across from her at the little table.

"So is it true?" he asked, getting her attention.

"Phil?" she said in surprise, hope in her voice.

"Is it true?" he asked again, not smiling, but not frowning either. His ruggedly handsome face was set in an unreadable mien. "Or is Hardy just fucking with me?"

Something akin to fear bubbled in her. What had Jeff told him? "What did he say?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her belly protectively.

"You're pregnant."

"Yes," she answered. There was no point denying it, and a lock of honest communication had put them in the mess they were in. "I'm pregnant."

Punk's eyes widen and he sighed deeply. "Shit," was all he could say.

"I was going to tell you after Extreme Rules," she started.

"I thought—"

"We thought wrong," she answered.

"And it's—"

"If you ask me if I'm sure the baby is yours, I will slap you," she threatened in an even tone, but her eyes were narrowed. The pain from his accusations of her cheating on him with Jeff still stung.

"When?" he asked instead.

"Wrestlemania," she answered flatly.

"How can you—"

"Be sure? I can count the number of times we've forgotten a condom on one hand," she responded without preamble.

He chewed at his lip ring, unsure of what to say or to do. He had never though about ever becoming a father, and he had never planned on it either. It hadn't bothered him when Jen told him she couldn't have kids because of what Corey had done to her (well, he was pissed beyond belief about what Corey _had_ done to her and if he ever ran into the fucker, there'd would not be enough left of him to bury) since he didn't want them anyway, but he knew Jen desperately wanted to have a baby.

"I'm sorry," he started. "About what I said. I just saw him and you and he had his hands all over you—and I couldn't think. I should have let you explain, but I didn't want to listen. I was just so pissed cause he looks at you and I hate it when people look at you like that."

"Like what?" she asked, hoping his sudden and unprompted ramble of feelings would continue.

"Fuck!" he said in exasperation, and by his reasoning, the answer to her question was blatantly obvious. "When they look at you like they think they could love you more than I do. I hate it when other guys look at you like they want you like I do," he answered softly now, not liking how vulnerable it made him feel to admit it. "And I hate that Jeff looks at you like that. I didn't think he actually do anything cause I thought I could trust him not to."

"Okay."

"Okay?" he asked in disbelief at her calm, even remark.

"Now I know. I feel the same way when it comes to the fans sometimes. Hell, I fell that way when I see you talking to Maria just because I know you use to date her," she answered. "But I trust you. I know you won't do anything, even if you do look because you're not like that."

"Are we okay?" he asked, trying to get across the message, "I'm sorry," and "Forgive me," and "I forgive you," all in one look.

"No, I don't think we are," Jen answered softly. "I love you, I really do, but you really hurt me, Phil."

"Jen, I'm sorry," he said, "and I don't want you to go."

"Then what are we going to do? I'm pregnant, Phil. We're pregnant. I'm not asking you to marry me or leave wrestling, but I need to know, do you want to have a baby with me?" she asked him seriously, forcing him to answer. "Because if you don't, tell me right now."

He didn't say anything at first, but he stayed deep in thought, chewing at his lip ring absently. "If there's anyone I want to have a kid with, it's you," he answer a few moments later, reaching across the table to take one of her hands in his.

She sighed in relief before asking, "Now what do we do?"

"I don't know," he answered, "but we'll figure it out."


	15. Chapter 15

Well, between work, school, my research paper, flu season, and a billion other things, I've had no time to spare, but I'm back with this as a humble offering. Thoughts would be nice. I was afraid for a while I had lost my touch.

By the way, isn't tomorrow (or in some parts of the world, today) a certain Punk's birthday?

SKG

**Killing Loneliness**

"So?"

"So Bambi won't come after your blood," Jen answered, setting her cell phone on the bed down next to her. Punk still paced back and forth next to the bed. Jen had just gotten off the phone with her sister, having insisted that Bambi know about the baby.

He had honestly been terrified of what his girlfriend's sister would do to him. He could still remember the first time he had met Bambi…for a woman a foot shorter than him and less than half his body weight, she was a freight! All ninety-three pounds of that little woman was fiercely defensive of her sister, and since it was Bambi that had pretty much raised Jen, she was more than entitled to it.

"Can you stop pacing? You're making me nervous," Jen asked him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His shoulders were tense.

Jen slide up behind him on the bed and hugged him from behind. She didn't say anything—what could she even have said? She was just as terrified as he was, but she couldn't deny her excitement. After the last beating Corey had given her, she had resigned herself to never having a baby. Now, however, she was pregnant. To think none of this would have happened if she hadn't had broken the heel off her shoe a year ago!

Surprised by Jen's hug, Punk couldn't suppress the stiffening of his shoulders. He relaxed quickly, however, and leaned back against her breasts. "What the hell happens now?" he asked her, sighing.

"We figure that out one step at a time," she answered. "I guess this means I'm officially moving in," she offered to lighten the atmosphere. It wasn't as if she didn't already live with him, but she still had some stuff back at the apartment she had shared with Nikki.

"Yeah, not much left to move," he remarked.

They were silent for several moments. Punk was still trying to comprehend having a baby, while Jen was trying to figure out the wisdom of finally moving in with him. If she moved in with him, she'd still end up being alone four days a week at least, and it would be especially lonely while she was pregnant. At least with the current arrangement with Nikki, she could stay with her and Alex while Punk was away.

"She should probably start heading to the arena," she remarked softly, gently combing her fingers through his hair.

"Yeah," he responded just as soft, reluctant to ruin this moment of peace between them.

*~*~*~*~*

_Thursday, October 28, 2008_

The "vacation" with Punk had been wonderful, but Jen was definitely glad to be back in Chicago.

She was sitting in her favorite chair in the living room of her and Nicole's apartment, waiting for Nicole to get home. Punk had offered to stay for awhile, but Jen declined his offer. This was something she had to do herself. IT was fantastic to have spent that time with Punk, but this was her home. She had stayed for the better part of a week in his apartment by herself, but she missed always having someone there.

Nicole's shift ended half-an-hour ago, so (provided she didn't stay at Alex's) she'd be home within the next ten minutes.

Fortunately, she didn't have to wait for the full ten minutes. The jiggling of the doorknob shattered the quiet of the apartment. Jen perked up as the door opened and Nicole stepped inside, a look of confusion on her face since she was certain she turned off the light when she left.

"Hello, Nikki," Jen said softly.

"Jen?" Nicole gasped, dropping her purse in shock. "Oh, God, I missed you! I'm so sorry!" she continued, rushing over to meet Jennifer in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't ever had—"

"No, I'm sorry. I should have known—"

"No, I over reacted—"

"No, I didn't care about what you'd think—"

"But it doesn't matter if I like it or not—"

"But I don't not care!" Nikki finished. "Jenna, I'm so sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean any of it."

"And I didn't mean any of it either!" Jen answered.

They ended up sleeping out in the living room after a movie-marathon of their favorite chick-flicks—from "Titanic" to "The Wedding Date."

"So how'd it go?"

Jen had been happy to hear her cell phone play "This Fire Burns" (it had only been appropriate to use this as his ring tone) the next morning around ten o'clock. "It went well," she answered, the phone on the counter near by. Whoever invented speaker phones was a genius. As she talked to her boyfriend, she was finishing up the dishes from breakfast. "We cried for an hour and then our shit was water under the bridge. We're good. So what'd you do all night?"

"Jack shit," he answered. "But I'm pretty sure I know what it feels like to be a junkie," he remarked.

His commented initially confused her. "What do you mean?"

"I've been jonesin for you," he answered, and she could hear that grin. "It was weird not to wake up with you this morning.'

"I missed you, too," she answered. "I still have off tonight if you want to do something," she offered.

"I think we could do something," he answered.

*~*~*~*~*

_June 9, 2009_

The few hours remaining before the show passed quickly.

Backstage in the gorilla Jeff Hardy and Adam Copeland waited for their cues. Adam bounced on his foot and sneered a few times to get him in the mind frame of Edge. Jeff, however, seemed to be in a whole other world…and not his Imag-I-Nation.

"What's eating you?" Adam asked.

"Huh?"

"If you don't have your head in this match," Adam started," then get your head in it or don't you dare try breaking my neck with your spots."

"Just…when ya throw mah at da announcement table, don't hit Jen," Jeff requested.

Adam raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged. "Like I'd hit a woman. Don't worry. I already worked it out with Punker earlier. Match'll end by DQ when he attacks me, remember?"

Jeff bit back his comment. During the meeting earlier he hadn't really paid much attention—he had been too busy thinking about Jen and what she had told him before she had left his hotel room…and what he had told Punk. Hopefully she'd forgive him.

Phil and Jen entered the gorilla from the locker room area. Their hands were linked, but Phil sent Jeff a cold look. Jen offered him a little smile, but she didn't say anything.

"Alright, let's do this shit," Adam grinned before Jeff's music started playing.

Ignoring the anxious feeling, Jeff headed out to the ring.

The show had been going off without a hitch. Punk, Jeff, and Adam's promo at the opening of the show had plenty of bite. Punk's match with Chris had gone off swimmingly, and the crowd hadn't been able to decide who they hated more—Chris Jericho or C.M. Punk? At the moment, they hated Jericho more since Punk was still riding the line between heel and face. When Jen accompanied him down to the announcement booth for Jeff and Adam's match, J.R. had given up his chair for her. Of course, another chair was immediately provided for him. So far, everything was golden.

"I don't think we've had the pleasure of ever meeting," J.R. started.

"I'm Jenna," she answered, giving the agreed upon stage name.

"It's good to finally meet you," J.R. continued. "You must be…proud to be with the new World Champion."

"Well he certainly is," she answered, a little coldly. Punk smirked next to her and took her hand in his, his character giving the message that Jenna was his, too.

The match began. J.R., Todd, and Punk took care of most of the commentary, so Jen only had to sit and be pretty while periodically cheering for Jeff.

When later asked no one would be able to tell exactly what had happened, but it went to hell. One moment Adam was throwing Jeff over the announcement table liked planned, the next Jeff crash landed into the woman next to his target, and down she went.

The audience gasped out in shock, and the anger Punk felt was very real. Adam really didn't know what his him when Punk got his fists on him.

The referee immediately called for the bell. Jeff's shock was just as real as Punk's anger. Jen was breathless and curled around her middle protectively through the agony of every breath.

J.R. and Todd were calling for a stretcher urgently, realizing something was not right.

As Punk's music filled the arena, he was rushing back down to Jen, not caring that he shoved aside Jeff to get to her.

"I'm okay," she tried to say, but it came out as a pained gasp.

Punk smoothed her hair back from her forehead, cussing furiously under his breath, glaring at Jeff as he did so.

The show went off the air, but Punk couldn't care less.

*~*~*~*~*

"Are you with Ms. McCorvik?"

"Yeah, her boyfriend," he answered. "How is she?"

"Good news: she only had the wind knocked out of her. The fetus is in good condition, all things considered," the doctor reassured.

Punk sighed in relief and tucked his dark bangs back behind his ear again. For the last hour and a half he had done nothing but pace back and forth and pull at his hair while the doctor's ran tests and had Jen's medical file faxed over from her usual doctor in Chicago. "Sweet fuck," he mumbled. "Thank you," he said louder.

"I couldn't help but notice Jennifer's deficient with several important vitamins. I recommend she start some prenatals and up her intact of folic acid," the doctor advised.

Punk nodded his understanding, though he was quickly becoming overwhelmed. "Can I see her?" he asked.

"I'll let you in for a while," the doctor—Dr. Allen, according to the ID badge—agreed, despite visiting hours being over. "If there are no complications through the night, we'll release her in the morning. I won't lie to you; I do have some concerns that flagged in her file. That scar tissue could become a problem later on as the fetus grows," he disclosed, looking every bit as concerned as he sounded.

"What kind of problems?"

"Hard to say. This isn't my area of expertise," Dr. Allen admitted. "Right not Jennifer is in the clear, but it's very important she talks to her OBGYN and has regular checkups through her pregnancy."

"Thanks. What room is she in?"

"Second floor, room 17 in the trauma ward. Just take the elevator and turn left down the hallway and then another left at the doors."

Punk nodded before taking Dr. Allen's directions. The door to Jen's room was cracked open, and he could hear the sounds from the TV on in the room. He opened the door a little farther and hovered in the doorway, just watching Jen. She was reclined on the hospital bed with the head-end raised, her hair down and her clothes exchanged for a hospital gown. She wasn't paying any attention to the television; one hand rested over her abdomen while in the other hand she held a grainy photograph. It was on that picture she placed her attention.

"Hey," he said softly, entering the room.

Jen turned her head towards him and smiled. "So you heard the good news?"

"Yeah, looks like we can go home tomorrow," he answered, sitting down at the foot of the bed. He offered her a relieved smile. "What's that?" he asked, motioning to the picture in her hand.

She smiled wider. "That little blob there," she started, pointing to a spot right about in the center, "that's our little blob."

"No shit?" he asked, looking harder. The spot she pointed out looked no bigger than a jelly bean and resembled a tadpole more closely than a baby.

"No shit. They did an ultrasound to make sure everything was okay. I asked if we could have a picture. Usually that's done later, but I thought, why not?" she continued. "That's our baby," she breathed, content. "It feels more real now, doesn't it?"

He couldn't deny it. It did feel more real. Jen's belly still was flat, but that picture proved there was a baby growing inside of her. He couldn't fight the smile that formed across his face, and he didn't try to. His eyes were warm, and all the little crinkles around them softened. To Jen, he looked like he was years younger than thirty (though thanks to his clean lifestyle, he already looked younger).

'We should call Jeff and let him know I'm okay. He's probably beating himself up over this," she stated, settling back against her pillow with a sigh.

"Let him beat himself up. He can wait until tomorrow," Punk disputed, glowering at the mention of the younger Hardy's name. He stood up quickly and rolled his shoulders. They cracked as he did so.

"It's not his fault I got hurt, you know," Jen responded. "Whatever it is you're thinking, stop it," she continued, seriousness in her voice. "Not to cast blame, but it was Adam who chucked him, but I don't see you growling about him."

"Well at least with Adam I don't have to worry about him trying to make a move on you," he responded snidely.

"Are we really going to do this here?" she demanded. "Because I am one press of the panic button away from having your ass escorted out. Sure seems like I'm not the only one having mood swings from hell. Grow up, move on, and get over it! I wish you could get it through your skull that whatever I feel for Jeff is a fraction of what I feel for you."

He sunk back down at the end of the bed. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm just tired of talking about Jeff."

"I'll make you a deal. I'll stop talking to Jeff if you stop talking to Maria," Jen started, her lips pulled tight into a bitter smile.

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"You heard me right. I'll give up Jeff if you give up Maria. You did love her after all. It only makes sense that you'd still have feelings for her. I mean, you see her practically all the time," Jen continued, now building up a head of steam.

"Maria's got nothing—"

"Then I guess you're going to have to come to terms with me talking to Jeff," Jen finished, "because I am not giving him up without you making an equal sacrifice. You have nothing to worry about with Jeff. He's my friend, that's all. Maria is _just_ your ex, isn't she?" she asked, calculatingly.

"Yeah, she's just my ex," he agreed with a sigh.

"Okay," Jen said softly. "I'm sorry," she offered as a white flag, "but your macho-bull shit 'girl-mine' routine just pisses me off right now. After all, I'm not having Jeff's baby."

"I'm sorry, too. I'm still wrapping my head around all this shit," he sighed.

"You have all the time you need, as long as you wrap your head around it before the end of December," she declared.

"Is that—"

"The due date, or there about," she finished. "Just in time for the new year."


	16. Chapter 16

I just realized it's been nearly a month since i posted another chapter. i should whip myself for the shame. I offer to you this.

SKG

**Killing Loneliness**

_June 1, 2009_

_Chicago_

"Jen, Ah'm so sorry," the man on the other end of the phone call said desperately.

"Jeff, I'm fine. I swear," she promised. Jen sat cross-legged on Punk's couch in their apartment, holding her cell phone to her ear.

"Ah'm still sorry," he insisted stubbornly. "Dammit, Ah coulda hurt ya real bad."

"But you didn't. I'm okay, and so is the baby."

"Good," he said cheerfully, but even he couldn't mask all the bitterness.

Jen winced a little at his tone, knowing it had to sting to be reminded of the main reason she had rejected him. "You understand, don't you? I can't just leave now, Jeff. I have to try to make this work with Phil. Our baby deserves that."

"Yeah," Jeff breathed. "Buh ya just tell mah da secon' he hurts ya an' Ah'll came an' get ya, 'kay?" he demanded.

"You'll be the first person I call," she promised. "But somehow I think I can handle him."

"Where's Punk'r anyway?"

"I sent him out for more Ben and Jerry's and coke," Jen answered. "Hopefully he doesn't forget a new jar of olives…or peanut butter. I may have to kill him if he forgets my peanut butter."

"Tell mah ya ain't gonna eat tha' all at once," Jeff begger in a whine, but she could hear him trying not to laugh.

"Don't knock it till you try it," she laughed back.

"Nah, Ah'll leave tha' to ya an' ya' crazy cravin's," he answered.

"Fine. See if you get invited back for breakfast."

"So am Ah gonna have ta worry 'bout him tryin' ta kill mah?" Jeff asked after another few minutes of joking back and forth.

"I gave him a choice. Either he get's over his problem with you, or he stops talking to Maria."

"Didn't he an' her—"

"Yeap," she answered.

"And he—"

"Doesn't like it one bit," Jen answered with a little bite. "I think he thinks I don't trust him with her, but I really don't give a damn about Maria. Like Phil would really cheat. I'm just done with all this macho-bull shit going on between the two of you. It hurts that he thinks that little of me. By the way, don't provoke him, okay," she commanded. "You're my best friend Jeff, but he's the father of my baby."

"Ah'll behave," he vowed.

"Thanks, 'cause I'm sick and tired of having my life controlled by the men I'm with," she sighed heavily. "This baby means everything to me. It's like I'm finally being forgiven."

"What 'cha mean?" he asked her in confusion.

"It's a long story," she told him.

"Ah ain't doin' nothin'."

"The easy way to say it is I was a real bitch in high school," she started with an ironic half laugh. "It's kind of amazing I even graduating considering all the crap I pulled—skipping class, wild parties, sex, tattooes…I was real messed up. I can't believe most days that my sister put up with all my shit."

"Ah ain't no angel either, babe," Jeff comforted.

"I told you I had been with a real piece of shit. He was older than me, but I didn't care. I loved him," she continued, hugging her arm not holding her phone around herself. "I thought he loved me, too. He hurt me so much, but I didn't care 'cause I thought I deserved it. I was so horrible to everyone, so I thought it was my punishment. It was a long time before I realized I didn't deserve it."

"Ya're damn rite ya didn't," Jeff said, almost angrily.

"I know that now," she said, mostly to calm him down. "My mother bailed on us when I was a little kid. My dad died a couple years later. It was just me and Bambi. I was definitely not in the running for "Most Stable" in high school. Well my stupidity caught up with me. By the time I was seventeen I was going to parties more often than I went to school. I drank because I could. Dammit, I hate how I was so much, Jeff."

"Ya're different now. People change," he said. "An' Ah don' care 'bout then."

"We'll see about that. I wasn't careful, and I ended up pregnant. Obviously since I don't have a kid that didn't last," Jen continued, a tear slipping down her check. "Phil knows already, so I'm not telling you anything he doesn't already know, but please, Jeff, don't bring it up, ever."

"Ah promise," he swore. "Thanks fo' trustin' me."

She nodded before remembering that he couldn't see her over the phone. "Thanks for listening."

"Ya ain't da only one ta fuck up, Jen," he reminded. "Ah got in a lot a' shit, too, ov'r da damn drugs," he continued. "Ya'll be okay."

"Thanks," she said softly.

From the other end of the line Jen could hear what sounded like Matt shouting for Jeff, though she couldn't make out what he said. "Ah'll be there in a minute!" Jeff shouted back to his brother. "Ah gotta go, hun," he said.

"Okay. I'll talk to you soon," Jen responded. "Good night."

"G' nite."

Jen pressed the end call button and set her phone down on the coffee table almost sadly as she wondered if she and Jeff would ever be okay again.

The TV was on across the room with the volume down low. Bored, Jen reached fro the remote and turned up the volume with the press of a button. Whatever show she had been watching, she was just in time to see the handsome piece of man-candy propose to what was obviously the main female lead. Weird since Jen had thought hunky man-candy had been involved with another woman earlier in the show…

*~*~*~*~*

Punk couldn't sleep. Jen, on the other hand, slept like the dead beside him. Well, at least one of them was getting a good night's rest. She slept on her side with her back to him against his chest. Her hair would occasionally tickle his nose as the scent of her shampoo filled his senses.

From outside he could hear cars going by and the other sounds endemic to city life. From Jen beside him could hear the soft sound of her breathing, steady and rhythmic. It was rather warm in his apartment, and sometime ago Jen had kicked off the sheet they usually slept under. Barring the short pair of boyshorts and old white tang top she was wearing, most of her skin was bare. Gently, he pushed up the fabric of her shirt and stroked the soft skin of her belly. She smiled in her sleep as he did so, but she gave no other sign that she was aware of what he was doing.

A small scar marred her skin. It was so little and faded, but it had caused Jennifer a lot of pain. Usually she kept it covered with a light layer of cover up so she didn't have to see it. That scar was a remnant from her past of another life she hated. Well, apparently that past had less of an effect on the future than she had thought.

A baby…and to think they had only been together for a little less than a year. If someone had told him a year ago back in that bar that he was going to fall this much for the girl who dumped his Pepsi, he would have laughed. Yet fall for her he did…quite a reverse of roles.

Stephanie McMahon had called earlier to check in on them and for an update on Jen's medical status. Figuring then would be as good a time as any, he told her that around December and into January he'd have to take some time off due to his impending fatherhood. He could have sworn that he heard "the Billion Dollar Princess" squeal and in the next breath tell Paul that soon their daughters would have another playmate.

He didn't quite know what to think about that. Well, at least he didn't have to worry about getting the time off.

Jen said she was due at the end of December, which only seemed like months and months away…

He had a definite feeling this would be the scariest, yet most rewarding, thing he'd ever experience.

*~*~*~*~*

_Wednesday, October 28, 2009_

_Chicago_

Jennifer was a little less than two months from her due date, and she felt huge. It looked like she had stuffed a beach ball under her clothes and all attempts at walking had turned into a waddle. Not only did she feel big and awkward, but she was being beaten from the inside! Obviously mini-Punk had inherited his or her father's "educated" feet. She could have dealt with that if the little one wasn't so active when she was trying to get some sleep.

If there was one good thing right now it was that she had gained almost two cup sizes to go along with her big pregnant belly. It was a small (in comparison) good thing.

Currently she was reclined on her boyfriend's couch in their apartment with her favorite battered copy of "Gone with the Wind" in her hands as she waited for Punk to return from the airport. Waiting…she sure was doing a lot of that lately. Waiting and relaxing. Her doctor, like Dr. Allen, was concerned with the possibility of her scar tissue re-opening, and so she was restricted from to vigorous movements.

She winced as the baby kicked again. The first time she had felt the kicking back in July had been amazing—like she had discovered one of the ancient wonders—but now it was rather painful. Punk was still in the amazement phase and would sit for long stretches of time with a hand on her belly feeling the baby kick his hand with a look of awe on his face. That was almost a complete 180 from how he was when she first told him she was pregnant. Not that she was complaining!

At least something was working out. Things with Jeff hadn't gotten any better, and after his arrest he started getting really distant from her. It hurt, but she couldn't worry over him like that since she had so much of her own crap to deal with. He remained in her thoughts, and the second he chose to open up, she'd be there to listen.

Finally the baby settled down and she was able to enjoy her book. Silly Scarlet. How couldn't she see how much Rhett loved her?

Meanwhile in his car on the way back to his apartment, Punk was receiving instructions via his sidekick from Mickie James, who the divas had voted to take charge of the celebration that he was charged with delivering Jen to. Mickie, with the help of Nicole (who he had introduced her to), had planned and organized the baby shower that people were no doubt starting to arrive at. And what baby shower went on without the guest of honor—i.e., the one who was actually pregnant?

"I know, Mickie," he sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Surprise. I get it."

"Give me an hour. Maybe a little less," he answered her question about when he would get Jen there."Okay. I'll get her there. Bye," he finished, pressing the end call button before using the speed dial to call Jen's phone.

"Hey Hun," she answered.

"Hey to you, too," he smiled. "How's my spawn?"

"Not letting Mommy get any rest," she bemoaned with a laugh. "I think I may even have bruises. My fetus abuses me."

"You want to go for lunch or would you rather stay in?" he asked, smirking at her comment.

"I need to get out of here for a while," she answered with a tone that said, 'yes, duh.' "How long til you get here?" she asked. "And where are we going?"

"Maybe ten minutes and nowhere fancy," he responded, turning off an exit.

"Okay. See you soon. Love you."

"Love you, too," he smiled before ending the call.


	17. Chapter 17

Hello dearest readers! It is I, returned to you with another chapter! Enjoy, and review! Thank you to all of you who have stuck with me thus far despite my annoying habbit of taking for-freaking-ever to write the next part. This is for all of you.

Bye the way. There's an obvious NCIS reference. Thought i'd point it out and save myself from "copy-write infringement."

P.S. I still don't know any actual person I mention in this. I could only wish to be that lucky.

SKG

**Killing Loneliness**

_Charlotte, N.C._

_Saturday, June 13, 2009_

"How are you feeling?" Punk asked as Jen sunk into a chair.

"Just tired," she answered. "I've been having some crazy dreams, so I haven't been sleeping well," she admitted. "Nothing to worry about," she continued, trying to ward off his concern.

"What kind of dreams?" he asked anyway with a raised eyebrow.

They were backstage at the Raw show where Punk was set to wrestle Jeff and Adam later in a triple threat match for what was currently his World Heavyweight Title. Originally Punk was supposed to do a promo with Matt Hardy, but it was changed just a bit to address what happened to Jen…and some happier news.

"Just…I can't really remember too much about them," she answered. "They're just kind of unsettling."

He nodded in understanding.

One of the sound men came over and asked, "Are you ready to start the promo yet?"

"Yea," Punk answered. "We'll be over there in a minute."

The sound man walked away with a nod.

"Did you look over the script?" Punk asked her.

"Yes," Jen answered sharply. "I know what to say. Stephanie even went over it with me earlier personally. After next Smackdown taping I have no more commitments to the company, which is just great because I can't keep this schedule up like this," she sighed, absently resting her hand once more over her abdomen.

At first Punk felt a little stab of something when she mentioned the no commitments, but he could see clearly her point.

"Let's get this over with," Jen continued irritably with a sigh as she got out of the chair.

"What's up with you?" Punk asked before he could stop himself.

"Did you really just ask me that?" she asked in a forced calm as she turned to face him with a scowl. "Gee, let's think about this for a second. I'm tired. I'm nauseous. My hormones are out of control. And I want to sleep in our damn bed tonight!" She finished emphatically. "So excuse me if I'm a tad bit crabby."

Punk chewed at his lip ring to keep himself from saying anything. Before he could think of anything to say, however, Jen frowned and said softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be taking this out on you. I'm just…I don't feel like me."

"Hey, no problem. It's not like I'm making this any easier," he said softly, pulling her closer to him and wrapped her in a hug.

"Damn it, I love you," Jen said almost helplessly against his chest. "And I hate fighting with you."

"Me too," Punk answered, agreeing to both statements.

"When did we get so…angry?" Jen asked softly into his shirt.

"I don't know," he said back with a sigh as he kissed the hair at the top of her head. "But we'll deal. I love you," he continued. "Fuck if I know why, but I do."

"Ditto," she laughed.

*~*~*~*~*

_Wednesday, October 28, 2009_

_Chicago_

"SURPRISE!"

"Holy shit!" Jen cussed rather loudly, clutching her hand to her chest out of shock as the lights flicked on and about a hundred or so people jumped into sight. Her eyes were wide and she looked like she didn't know if it was acceptable to laugh or not. The "restaurant" Punk had taken her to was decorated with black, white, and sliver balloons (coincidently the same color scheme as the newly repainted nursery in their apartment). White icicle lights hung from the ceiling and several banners proclaiming "Congratulations!" and "Welcome Baby Punk!" were also strung up. One of the banquet tables was piled with presents—some rather large.

The people there were the girls she had worked with at Alex's bar, friends, family she still talked to, and a lot of people Punk worked with, along with their families.

"You know, you really should watch that mouth of yours. You're going to be someone's mommy," a woman admonished with a smile as she approached the newly arrived couple.

"Oh my god! Bambi!" Jen gasped before hurrying as quickly as she was able to waddle over to the diminutive woman. It was hard to say who hugged who harder—Jen or Bambi? "How the hell?" she asked, a few tears caught in the corners of her eyes. She felt so over whelmed, but they were happy tears.

"A certain delinquent picked us up from the airport," Bambi answered pleasantly. Despite being in her mid thirties, Bambi sure didn't look it. She could have passed for a college student with her blonde hair cut in a stylish and slightly edgy bob and her dress causual. Her gold wedding ban glinted on her hand beside a ring with her and Jen's birthstones, and those rings were the only jewelry she wore. Bambi's husband Jonathan came up next to her carrying their four-year-old daughter Paxton as she slept on his shoulder.

"How's my favorite sister-in-law?" he asked jovially, his mouth a large grin. He definitely had more laugh-lines around his mouth and eyes than the last time Jen had saw him.

"I'm your only one, John," Jen laughed, turning to give him a hug as well.

"You have yet to meet the hag Tommy married," John joked, mentioning his younger brother. He stepped back and beamed brightly at her.

The whole room was a collective of noise—people talking mostly, but playing over the speaker system was what sounded like the various entrance themes of the superstars.

"Who put this all together?" Jen asked Punk in wonder.

"Mickie and Nikki," he answered from beside her.

Jen smiled, easily imagining how much fun Mickie had planning a baby shower and how many of her idea Nicole had to shut down.

"What are you waiting for?" came the voice of Mickie James from over the speakers. She stood up on the other side of the room with a microphone in hand. "Get the lady a chair! It's hard work carrying a baby!"

The next hour was a blur as everyone came up to wish her and Punk good luck or to pass on a tidbit of advice as they welcomed her to the party. She had lost track of many of the superstars who came. Punk's best friend—Scott "Colt Cabana" Colton—had come as well, a touching gesture since she and Scott weren't exactly close. But Scott was there to support Phil, which meant she approved. Punk's mother and sisters were also fluttering around. Due to Punk's choice of career, they weren't as close as they'd like to be, but they were very supportive of him (especially since he was giving his mother another grandchild).

Not only had she lost track of people—she lost track of how many people had assaulted her tummy. Of course, during all the excitement, the baby started getting more active just in time for his or her cousin Paxton to set her tiny hand over Jen's skin. The look of amazement on the little girl's face was worth the discomfort.

"Mommy! I can feel the baby kicking!" she shouted excitedly.

Some of the Divas were running wild with cameras and were getting pictures of everything and everyone.

The WWE as a whole was a family, no matter who was feuding with whom on the show. Paul and Stephanie were there with their daughters Aurora and Murphy, as was Shawn and his wife Rebecca and their children Cameron and Cheyenne. Even Randy and Samantha Orton had brought along little Alanna.

Then the last person she had expected to see there appeared.

"Ya miss mah?" a familiar Southern accent asked as he set a present on the floor beside her.

"Jeff?" she asked in shock. He had cut his hair short and dyed it a bluish-black, but the eyes and smile were undoubtedly Jeff. "What are you waiting for? Help me up!" she ordered, trying to get out of the chair.

He chuckled as he lent her a hand and pulled her out of the chair. "Ya look great," he smiled, pulling her into a hug.

"I'm huge," she laughed, returning the hug.

"Ya're beautiful," he corrected. "Ye'ar glowin' n' every thin'," he continued, still smiling brightly. "Sorry Ah'm late,' he offered with a little apologetic shrug.

"I'm just glad you're here," she told him, smiling just as brightly. "This means a lot to me," she added when he let go of her.

"Ah wasn't sure if Ah could come. Ma hearin' starts in a couple a' days."

"Oh, God, Jeff," Jen sighed helplessly. "If you need anything—"

"Ah'll be fine, Jenna," he answered.

From a few tables over punk, who had been joking around catching up with Scott, saw Jen get up and hug someone he knew immediately on sight as Jeff Hardy. Despite his urge to go over and demonstrate that Jen was with him, he ignored the scene. Besides, considering Jen's mood swings, it was likely doing something like that would blow up in his face.

Mickie had again gone up to the microphone. "Okay everyone, it's time for another game!" she cheered excitedly. "If you weren't here earlier, Paul, better known as Hunter, better known as Triple H, won the earlier challenge of guessing what the first words out of Punkie's mouth would be when Jen says, 'Honey, my water just broke,' with the statement, 'FUCK! Vince, I need an airport and some pants!'" she announced, adopting as close an imitation to Paul's deep voice and New England accent as she could manage, thus gaining applause and laughter. Paul stood and took a bow. Even Punk had to laugh at the statement.

"Before we start our next game, please make sure those of you who haven't placed your bet on the number of bibs received please do so. You can leave the amount with Nicole." As Mickie mentioned her name, Nicole stood up and waved.

"When you first arrived you received a bingo card with instructions to write one baby-related object in every box. Well, as our guest of honor unwraps her presents, mark down the boxes matching on your card. In order to win you must have a big "B" for baby on your board. You must shout 'Baby-bingo.' First three people will win."

Jen smiled at Mickie's twist on the classic.

"Ah betta' go an' find a seat," Jeff said. "Ah'll see ya latah."

"Bye Jeff."

He waved as he headed into the massive crowd of people.

Jen honestly didn't know why there were so many people there since she only knew most of the people Phil worked with in passing, but it was still nice to know she was now included in the WWE family. She settled back into her chair and folded her hands over her tummy. The baby was still kicking.

"Hey," Punk said, coming over and leaning down to kiss the crown of her head. "How you feeling?"

"Tired. Over whelmed," Jen answered. "I really have to thank Mickie and Nikki later. I can't believe they did all this."

"Your sister's pissed they didn't let her help out," he informed. "Ready to see what everyone got us?" he asked.

"Us?" she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Hey, I helped make the kid," he responded with a smirk. "It was hard work."

"Yeah, hard work alright," she laughed.

"You can hog her attention later," Nicole ordered as she came closer. "Come on Jen. We have a chair for you closer to the present table."

Simultaneously annoyed at having to get back up and relieved that there was another chair, Jen got up and followed Nicole.

After she was settled into the new chair, Nicole gave her a rectangular box-the kind of shape that department stores wrapped clothes in. Black wrapping paper covered the box and green ribbon made a pretty bow. Inside a simple white card Jen was amused to see, "From your good friends at," followed by a miniature spray-paint DX symbol.

"From Shawn and Paul," Jen said, mostly for the benefit of Bambi (who had nominated herself to the position of stenographer). Once she had unwrapped all the paper and opened the box, she found a few onesies of different sizes—all with the DX symbol on the front and "Suck it!" on the back—and a note that said, "Shawn Hunter is a very good boy's name."

"Thanks, guys," she laughed. "We'll keep Shawn Hunter in mind."

After about twenty minutes of opening gifts the first person to shout "baby bingo" was Melina. Mickie made a show of delivering to her a baby bottle filled with chocolates.

It took about forty minutes to open all the gifts. Samantha Orton and Kofi Kingston were the other two winners. Paxton was upset that she didn't win, but when Bambi suggested to her daughter that it would be a big help if she picked up and put all the wrapping paper in a bag, Paxton took to the job with all the seriousness of a general.

If she had to choose a favorite gift, then it had to be Jeff's. He had painted a picture for her that just blew her away. It was in his usual abstract style with lots of bright blue and yellow in contrast to the black and white patchwork background. It was going to be a bright edition to the nursery.

"Mommy's not the only one getting presents," Mickie said into the microphone after Jen's last present was opened. "Come on, Punk. There's some stuff up here with your name on them."

Punk looked confused for a second before he rose out of his own chair at the table he was sitting at with his family and Scott. He strode up front next to Jen.

The first present handed to him was a box wrapped in light blue paper. He opened the card only to see it said, "Scott." "You bastard," he said Scott's way good naturedly before tearing open the paper. Inside the box were a few toys, some pacifiers, and an onesie that Punk laughed aloud when he saw. He held it up and showed it off proudly.

The text across the onesie read, "My daddy's sXe. (That means he's better then your daddy.)"

"Get up here, you asshole," Punk shot at Scott, a wide grin across his face.

Scott rose from his chair waving his hand with a wide shit-eating grin. He strode upfront at an easy pace. When he got upfront, he and Punk shared a male-bonding moment with a tough man-hug that gained several wolf-whistles from a few of the more perverted people of the WWE.

"Alright, you fucker, go sit your ass back down," Punk ordered with a laugh as he and Scott's bro-mance moment ended.

Paxton, who was still taker her job with absolute seriousness, looked scandalized as a four-year-old could and said loudly, "Uncle Punkie! You shouldn't use that kinda words! Mommy says they're crass and a sign of a little mind! And you're not little, so you shouldn't use them words!"

The entirety of the room was shocked silent at the little girl's chastisement, except for Jen. She started laughing hysterically at her shocked face of her boyfriend and the displeased face of her niece. "You tell him, Paxton!" she cheered, a wide smile across her face.

Punk cracked a smile and knelt down to her level. "I'll go this far with you, kid. I'll clean up my mouth, if you go a week without playing with your Barbies."

"You got a deal, but if you use bad words you have to give me five dollars," Paxton negotiated.

"Fine. Every time I curse, I'll pay you five dollars, but if you even think about those dolls, the deal's off," Punk agreed, shaking Paxton's little hand.

"Who plays with stupid Barbie anyway?" she asked seriously. She leaned in and whispered, "I have a farting hippo. His name's Bert."

Leaving Punk shocked at being beaten by a four-year-old, Paxton went back to her job. Jen wasn't the only one laughing herself to tears. Bambi as well was struggling to catch her breath. Her daughter was definitely going places.


	18. Chapter 18

I trust the person I let slip the baby name to will keep it secret? keep it safe?

**Killing Loneliness**

_Thursday, November 26, 2009_

_Chicago_

Thanks to the craziness of holiday travel, Punk's flight was delayed…twice. It was noon when he landed in Chicago International Airport and another half an hour before he had his luggage and was in a cab. He was so tired and wanted nothing more than to get back to his apartment, enjoy the meal that Jen was no doubt in the process of preparing, and sleep off a turkey-coma in his bed spooned against his girlfriend.

Honestly, if the cabbie had been a chatter-box, Punk probably would have had to kill him. His patience was completely gone and his nerves were totally fried. Not only was he exhausted, but he also managed to re-stress his elbow during his match with John Cena from Raw. His knee was also bothering him again. It could be worse. He could have re-burst his eardrum. That had royally sucked…epically.

He texted a quick message to Jen saying, 'In chicago. Home soon.'

About a minute later he got a text back from her saying, 'Kk. C U soon. LY.'

'LY2,' he sent back, smiling softly before he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

The cab ride was silent for most of the trip to his Lockport apartment, but about five minutes from their destination, the cabbie spoke. "Would you mind signing something for my kid?"

"Huh?" Punk asked, surprised by the sudden break in their silence.

"My kid's a big fan—really took your speal to heart. Hell, he made me quit smoking," the cabbie admitted. "He hadn't been feeling well, and this would make him smile. Kemo's rough. He doesn't have much to smile about."

"Shit, man," Punk expressed softly. "Yeah, I'll sign something. What's his name?"

"Anthony," the man said. He reached up and pulled from the sun visor a photo before handing it back to Punk. "That's my wife, Lydia, and our Tony."

The woman in the picture wasn't beauty-pageant pretty, but there was something about her smile that made her beautiful. The boy in the picture was eleven or twelve, and obviously took after his mother.

"What do you want me to sign?" Punk asked, still looking at the picture. The woman—Lydia—looked nothing alike to Jen, but he couldn't help but see her in the photo. If something were to ever happen to her or to their soon-to-be born child, he had no idea what he'd do.

"If you don't mind waiting, I have a bag in the back with the new wrestling game for him. Would you mind signing that?"

"I'll sign it," Punk agreed, giving back the photo. "Cancer?" he asked softly.

"Yeah. The doctors are hopeful, though," the driver said with hope in his own voice. "If he responds well to this round of treatment, he can come home for Christmas."

"Then I hope he's home for Christmas," he said. "My girlfriend's pregnant. She's due in a few weeks. I'm terrified something's going to go wrong or something's going to happen to her or the kid. I have no clue how the hell you're dealing with this."

"You have to have faith, because if you don't, what is he supposed to think?" the cabbie answered, interjecting his situation into his advice. "When's the kid due?"

"December 28th," Punk answered.

"Quite a Christmas present," the man said with a smile. "Do you know if it's gonna be a boy or a girl?"

"No. She wants it to be a surprise," Punk said with a wide grin. "I'm trusting that all of this won't end up in a tabloid."

"On my honor. Anthony might tell a few of his friends, but I don't like reporters."

As the man finished his statement, he slowed the cab to a stop next to the curb in front of Punk's apartment building.

As Punk was signing his name and penning a message for a sick child, Jennifer was sinking down into a chair with a sigh and a hand over her very pregnant belly. She had been on her feet for most of the day thus far watching carefully over the turkey no in the oven. A pumpkin pie cooled on the counter and a big dish of candied yams sat warming on the stove top. She felt it was well within her rights to take a break. At least the baby was starting to settle down—he or she was getting a little too big to kick so much.

This Thanksgiving it was only going to be her and Punk, which she didn't mind. She missed him and really only wanted to have some one-on-one time with him while she still could before the baby came.

A knock echoed from the front door of the apartment. Thinking it was Punk, she called, "You forgot your keys again, didn't you?" as she pushed herself up out of her chair.

It took a minute to make her way from the kitchen and through the hallway to the front door.

A wide smile was across her lips as she flipped the lock. She opened the door…only to receive a very unwelcome surprise.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jennifer snarled, well prepared to slam the door shut in the woman on the other side's face.

"I'm not allowed to visit my own daughter?" the woman asked, raising an eyebrow the same shade of red-brown as Jen's.

"What part of, 'I don't want you in my life!' was too hard to comprehend?" Jen shot back. "Just leave me alone! I want nothing to do with you!"

"Jennifer Marie, is that anyway to speak to your mother?"

*~*~*~*~*

The very last thing Punk expected to see when he exited the elevator was his very pregnant girlfriend screaming at a strange woman he'd never seen before in the hall to, "Just leave me the fuck alone!"

"Hey! What the hell's going on?" he called, dropping his bag in the hallway and rushing over to his irate girlfriend. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded toward the other woman. She looked to be about forty or so without a single grey hair or wrinkle, but she had the artificial look too many facelifts and too much Botox brought on.

"So you're the one my daughter's shacked up with," the woman remarked. "Well you're better than most of the punks she's run around with," she continued as she eyes him up and down critically.

Her statement surprised him. Daughter?

"What the hell do you want?" Jen demanded again, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed angrily. "Haven't you ruined my life enough?"

"I haven't ruined anything. You made those bad choices, Jennifer, not me," the woman answered coldly. "Now apologize to your mother."

"You want _me_ to apologize? Fine," Jen snapped. "I'll apologize, Mother…for not slamming the door in your face!"

"Oh, Jennifer," the woman frowned and shock her head. "It seems Bambi never bothered to teach you manners."

"Look," Punk snapped at the woman before Jen could respond. "I don't know you and I don't care, but you need to leave. Now."

The woman fixed Jen with a level stare and said, "I came to today because I found out that I was going to be a grandmother again. I want to be part of my grandchild's life."

"Not a chance!" Jen shouted, her eyes now gleaming with a threatening light.

"Just get the fuck out of here," Punk ordered, trying to get between the two women.

"Not until I've had a chance to discuss a few things with my daughter!" the woman snapped back at him.

"Then I guess you're going to be waiting a real long time because I refuse to see you," Jen snapped. "You gave up any right to be part of my life when you abandoned us!"

"Jennifer, I wanted to take you with me," the woman answered as Punk tried to get Jen back inside their apartment. "I wanted to, but your father wouldn't let me!"

Jen's stormy countenance wavered for just a moment before hardening again. "Just leave," she begged. "If you ever loved me at all, you'll leave me be." She turned and walked deeper into the apartment, away form the front door and her mother.

The woman sighed before addressing Punk. "I will return tomorrow. All I want is to make some peace with my daughter. Is that so wrong?"

"Look," Punk started as he fixed her with a cold glare, "Jen doesn't want to see you, and I'm not going to make her. You're wasting your time. I don't care how you found us. Just don't try this shit again."

"Maybe trying to reconnect with my daughter may seem like a waste of time to you, but I see things a little differently," she sneered at him, somehow managing to stare down her nose at him despite him being taller.

"All I wanted when I got home was some turkey and some sleep, but I come home to you, just some bitch I don't know, stirring up shit at my fucking door. I really don't give a shit who the hell you think you are, but if you attempt to fuck with my girlfriend or my kid, I will make you regret it," he guaranteed passionately.

The woman gave him a bitter smile. "As if you are capable of making me feel more regret," she challenged before turning away and walking toward the elevator.

Punk stood watching her as she stepped into the elevator and disappeared from behind the closed doors. He sighed and pushed back his hair from his faced with one hand. Well, he certainly hadn't been expecting this. Grimly, he walked over to his bag and picked it up before he walked into his apartment, closing and locking the door behind him.

He found Jen in the living room on the couch, crying into a pillow. Her shoulders shuck as she silently broke down. Slowly and as calmly as he could, he dropped his bag again onto another chair and approached her before knelling down in front of her. "Hey," he whispered, gently taking one of her hands clutching the pillow and laced his tattooed fingered through hers. Giving her time to calm down, he slipped onto the couch beside her and waited. It wasn't long before she traded the pillow for his chest.

"I hate her," were the first words out of her mouth as soon as she was able to speak. "I really, really do."

"I know," he concurred, letting her continue. Comfortingly, he brushed the fingers of his other hand through her hair.

"Who does she think she is? She abandoned us; not the other way around! Now she thinks I'm just going to let her see my baby because that's what she wants? Forget it!" Jen vowed vehemently. "I hate her, and I'll be damned before she ever lays a finger on my baby."

"She'll never have a chance," he answered, continuing to pet her hair and hold her against him. His hand not stroking her hair settled over her bulging middle, fingers still laced with hers. "I promise."

*~*~*~*~*

For the first time in too long, Punk slept in his own bed that night pressed as close to Jen from behind as he could get, just like he wanted.

During the night, however, something strange on a whole new level of weirdness occurred. His eyes opened only to find himself alone wrapped in a light blue sheet. This was strange for two reasons: 1) Jen wasn't as silent as she use to be (being rather pregnant) so she usually woke him up when she got up, and 2) the sheets last night were red.

How odd.

More curious as to where his girlfriend was rather than the color-changing sheets, he freed himself from the bedding and headed out of the bedroom.

The lights in the bedroom had been off and not even a sliver showed from under the door, but when he opened the door to the hallway, light blared quite suddenly in his face. Disoriented and blinded for a moment, he stumbled down the hall towards where he heard the voice of…Bambi? What was she doing there?

"Oh Jen-Jen! The little one's so cute that I could just eat little Baby Punk right up!" Bambi cheered, followed by a high infant giggle.

"I know, Bam-Bam, right? Doesn't little Baby look just like Daddy?" his girlfriend added with a laugh. "What do you think, Mom?" Mom? Jen hated her mother…didn't she? Things had gone from strange to weird to all out baffling.

"Totally, Precious. Just a miniature Daddy," the voice of the cool woman who had attempted to barge into their lives answered Jen's question. "I guess Grandmummy gets to call you Precious now, little Baby."

"I want to hold the Baby!" his girlfriend's niece added in a youthful babble.

Still confounded, Punk stepped into the living room. Jen's back was to him and her shirt dipped low in the back to show her bare back…her completely bare back. All of her tattoos were gone and all that was left was smooth, unblemished cream skin. His eyebrows flew right up his forehead at this sight.

Creepier still was Bambi, Paxton, and Jen's mother's Stafford-wife smiles. All three women and the little lady were gathered around a bassinet, cooing over a little body with tiny little waving arms. Bambi was the first to see him and, giggling, she motioned for Jen to turn around.

"Honey, what are you doing out of bed?" Jen asked with a wide smile just as fake and blank as her sister's, niece's, and mother's stretched across her lips. "You know the doctor told you to rest until that incision heals. Wouldn't want the scar tissue to tear open, now would we?"

"What?" he asked, looking down at his stomach. Across his abdomen there was a mean scar…right about where a doctor would perform a c-section on a woman. "What the hell is going on?"

"Bad words!" Paxton chirped.

The baby giggled.

"Phil!" Jen shouted, but the Jen was looking at didn't open her mouth. In fact, she looked confused. "Phil! Wake up, dammit!"

"Huh?" he mumbled as he blinked his eyes open. He was lying down in a dark room, and he wasn't alone. Jen—a very pregnant and disgruntled Jen—was next to him giving him an irritated look that bordered on homicidal. "What's wrong?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"You're tossing and turning so much that I can't sleep," she answered flatly. "Stop it."


	19. Chapter 19

Just in time for the holidays!

Enjoy. I baked cupcakes with little gigerbreadmen sprinkles for the first person to review.

**Killing Loneliness**

_December 24, 2008_

_Philadelphia_

"Come on," Jen laughed. "I promise she won't kill you," she added with a bright smile as she tugged his hand.

They were standing on the sidewalk of a suburb in Philadelphia, just outside a nice, little home made of brick with a cute front porch (not that he noticed it was cute). It was cold (after all, it was December), but there wasn't a flake of snow in sight. They had just gotten out of the taxi that had delivered them from the airport, and now was the moment of truth.

Inside that nice, little home lived one of the few members of Jen's family she still spoke to—her older sister, Bambi.

"That's not what I'm worried about," he admitted.

"She's going to love you," Jen assured, still smiling brightly. She absolutely hated being back in Philly, but it was her hometown, and she missed seeing her sister so much. "Now can we go inside? Not to be a bitch, but it's pretty fucking cold out here," she requested as she shivered in the crisp winter air. She was bundled in his hoodie and a jacket, but it wasn't enough.

"Sure," he answered. This was definitely one of the most nerve racking moments of his life. His girlfriend held her sister in very high regard, so if Bambi didn't approve, then things would definitely get a lot more strained.

"Hey," Jen said softly, prompting him to look her way. "Thank you for coming with me. This means a lot to me," she said sincerely, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand.

With his other hand he brushed aside some of her bangs and answered with his smirking smile she loved, "No problem."

"If you're a good boy, I might think about giving you your present early," Jen bribed, her smile turning teasing, before she let go of his hand and strode with her head held high to the front door.

Punk groaned aloud at her statement before picking up their shared luggage bag and joining her. "I am going to hold you to that," he whispered into her ear, his husky voice sending a different sort of shiver down her spine.

"Bring it on," she challenged with a wink before ringing the door bell.

From inside the house a dog barked. Jen's eyebrows crinkled together in confusion as she mused aloud, "When did she get a dog? Bambi hates dogs."

The door opened to a man of approximately six foot tall and about 190 pounds holding back a yellow Labrador of bear-like proportions. "Down, Tigger," he commanded, and the dog let loose an excited whine as it laid down on the floor. The man smiled brightly at Jen before shouting over his shoulder, "Honey, your sister's here!"

"I'll be right there!" a woman shouted from deeper in the house.

"Well, Jennifer, you get prettier every time I see you," the man greeted with a smile.

"Jonathan!" Jen mock scolded with a laugh as she and Punk stepped inside from the cold into the living room of the house. She hugged the man warmly before saying, "Phil, this is my brother-in-law, Jonathan. John, this is Phil." Well, that was a shock. Jen never mentioned to him before that her sister was married.

"Hello," John said pleasantly, all the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes crinkling with his smile. "It's good to see someone taking care of Jen. I've got my hands full with Bambi as it is."

Punk smiled at that before saying, "Jen's just as much trouble."

"Where's my sister?" the woman's voice demanded as a diminutive blond woman appeared, almost bouncing into the living room. "Jennifer!" she cheered brightly. So this tiny woman (she was only 4'9" at the tallest) was Jen's older sister?

"God, I missed you, Bam," Jen answered, rushing over to greet her sister.

*~*~*~*~*

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" came the sweet voice of Bambi. Her hand curled over his biceps as she directed him away from the living room.

Bambi's request surprised him. His girlfriend was playing with Bambi's daughter, Paxton. The toddler was babbling to her aunt about the tea set they were having an imaginary tea party with, and Jen seemed to be enjoying herself, at least judging by the laughter and wide, radiant smile.

"Sure," he answered.

"Excellent," Bambi remarked, pulling him along with her out of the living room and down the little hall to the kitchen. Her sweet smile turned serious as she stated saying, "I was so prepared to hate you."

Punk braced himself for the obligatory speech about what would happen to him should he ever hurt Jen. Sure, Nicole had given him a similar speech (and liked to make frequent reminders of it), but he had a feeling anything Nicole could do to him was nothing compared to what Bambi could do to him.

"After all, pretty much every guy my sister has ever dated has to date been a selfish prick," Bambi continued. "I wanted to tell you I was wrong about you. You're not so bad as far as punks go, but if I ever catch you dicking my sister around I will find you. Okay?"

"I understand," he said, suppressing the urge to call her "ma'am," strange since he usually didn't address anyone as "ma'am" anyway.

"Good, because you make Jen happier than I've seen her in a long time. I'd really hate to see you ruin that," Bambi finished, softly but sternly.

Punk nodded before saying, "I won't promise to marry her or anything, but I don't plan on leaving her any time soon."

"Good. I don't want you to marry Jen anyway. She deserves someone who can give her more than two or three days a week, not to mention someone who can be there for the kids' birthdays and school events," Bambi said very matter-a-fact.

"I won't pretend you don't know about Jen's condition. It's a damn good thing I don't want kids," he answered, his temper showing itself.

"Stranger things have happened. My OBGYN swore up and down that my Paxton would be a Patten. Besides, you ignominious idiot, just because Jen can't get pregnant doesn't mean children are out of the question. You have heard of adoption, haven't you?" Bambi snapped sharply.

Reluctantly, Puck acknowledged her point. "Look, you're her sister. You want her to have the best. I get it. I have two sister of my own and I made damn sure their significant others would live in fear of me if anything happened to them. But I really don't give a fuck what you think Jen needs unless it's what Jen wants. I love her, okay?" he spoke, standing his ground.

Bambi gave him a level stare before announcing, "I approve." She didn't wait for a response before heading back to the living room with the rest of her family.

Punk hovered for a minute in the kitchen, Bambi's statement stuck in his mind. Kids? Right, because the world just needed a mini-Punk running around. It wasn't like Punk was the father-type anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

He had behaved himself—really and truly—and he really, really wished they had gotten a hotel room so he could have collected on his reward. Sleeping in the room next to your girlfriend's slightly scary sister and across the hall from her beloved little niece did wonders to kill the libido.

Jen slept right beside him on her side, snuggled into the soft and warm sheets covering the bed. She had pushed the thick blanket off of her earlier and was content with using punk as a heat generator. Usually when they slept together, they'd sleep nude since clothes tended to be more of a hindrance. Tonight, however, Jen had "borrowed" one of his old flannel button-down shirts with a few missing buttons that had been through the wash enough times to reduce its color from black to grey and paired with her favorite pair of pink boyshorts. Usually he was quite fond of seeing her in those panties, but right now they were an annoyance.

Jen slept soundly, but he wasn't so lucky. For whatever reason, he just couldn't get to sleep.

Bored, he reached over to the bed side table he had set his cell phone down on earlier and checked the time. It was 2:37 December 25, Christmas morning. Christmas wasn't a big deal for his family growing up, but for Jen it was still important. Neither she nor her family was particularly religious, but what mattered to them was just being together.

He had stashed a little white box under his side of the bed earlier so Jen wouldn't find it. Sure, he had bought the tickets to Philadelphia and surprised her with them as an early gift, but he had stumbled across something he knew she'd love. It was going to end up being one of the most painfully romantic gifts he had ever given, and that thought had given him pause. This new romantic side of him was uncharted territory (usually he could claim to have written the book on ending relationships).

Deciding to just get it over with, he grabbed the box from off the floor and turned back to face his sleeping girlfriend…or at least she had been sleeping. Jen's green eyes were hazy from sleep but open none the less. "Phil?" she asked softly, her voice laced with drowsiness.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning close to kiss her cheek. "Merry Christmas," he continued softly. Thanks to the darkness Jen didn't see the box in his hand.

Jen shifted closer to him and mumbled back, "Merry Christmas," before slipping back to sleep.

Punk waited a few minutes to make sure she was asleep before moving. Gently and slowly moving so he didn't re-wake her, he opened the box and carefully took out the necklace. He draped it around her neck, knowing Jen wasn't likely to move again until she actually woke up.

Mission accomplished, he feel asleep.

A few hours later Paxton's excited shout of, "Santa came, Mommy!" brought Punk and Jen from their somnolent state. Punk grunted in mild annoyance and tried to bury his head under the pillow. Jen was trying to figure out why she felt something slide over her skin when she sat up.

Caught on her shirt was a little slim chain of silver like a necklace. She didn't remember leaving any jewelry other than her earrings and belly button ring on when she went to bed. Carefully so she didn't break the chain, she removed the necklace from the button it was caught on and was amazed by the charm on it. Two intricately feathered wings like an angel's hung off the main chain and along the edge of the wings were a row of tiny onyx stones.

Jen turned to face her boyfriend whom was looking at her almost nervously. The face looking back at Punk was a mix of surprise and amazement. "I love it! This is…wow!" Jen expressed, turning back to look at what was apparently her Christmas present from him. "God, Phil! Wow," she continued, a happy tear forming in the corner of her eye. "Thank you!"

Punk sat up as well beside her and said warmly, "You're welcome." His voice was low and deep from sleep and his whole demeanor was soft and comforting. His hand slipped under her shirt and spread over the skin of her back before his fingers started making little circles over her skin. "I saw that and thought of you…so, yeah. Merry Christmas."

Smiling brightly, Jen pinched the clasp open and placed the necklace around her neck before closing the clasp through the little loop at the other end of the chain. In wonder, she touched the silver wings now dangling between her breasts. "This is beautiful," she whispered before twisting to face him.

Punk watched her with a gentle look on his face and his eyes held only love. His hair was a mess, but he still looked like her adorable dork. His fingers kept making the little circle-motions on her back.

"I love you so much," she said.

"Me, too," he answered. With a little pressure from his fingertips, he guided her closer to him and kissed her.

*~*~*~*~*

_December 24, 2009_

_Lockport_

"Any day now," she sighed somewhat impatiently with a hand curled over her protruding pregnant belly.

They were spending Christmas in their Lockport apartment for a few reasons. Mostly, they were spending their second Christmas together in Lockport because Jen was unable to fly since she was just days away from their due date. Also, neither Jen nor Punk wanted to spend the day with their relatives. In a few days they would lose all opportunity to ever be alone on their twosome for a long time.

Punk was enjoying the opportunity to relax. His tour schedule had been very hectic of late and his absence from the TLC pay-per-view had been a welcome break. As exhausting as he touring schedule had been, he had been honored to have been able to go on the Tribute to the Troops tour in Iraq. It was always an honor to perform for the men and women of the armed forces.

As soon as he was back home they very first thing he did was kiss his girlfriend so tenderly and passionately like he hadn't in a very long time and told her he loved her. Then he fell to his knees and muttered that he was sure was gibberish to her belly. The four or five days on the road away from Jen were pretty hellish at times, but he couldn't imagine spending the months away from home, friends, and family like the soldiers.

His larger, tattooed hand settled over hers. She currently was using his chest as a pillow as she laid between his legs on the couch. He nuzzled her red-brown hair and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

"So, how long do you have off?" she asked, enjoying the closeness of his body to hers.

"I start house shows again in March, but I have to be there for filmings and a few pay-per-views," he answered.

"Okay," she nodded. Sure, it wasn't idle, but bills had to be paid and babies were expensive. Besides, Punk was very fortunately to be able to have so much time off. She turned her head to the side and leaned slightly to look at his face. "Are you excited yet?"

"Terrified…excited—is there a difference?"

"I'm scared, too," she admitted softly.

"You know you're not your mother, right?" he asked, realizing her fear of turning out like her mother.

"Just like you aren't your father," she answered back in seriousness. "I know you better than that. I know you'll never do that, Phil." She threaded her fingers through his, still over her belly, and tenderly brushed over the tattoos on his knuckles. "This is who you are. You're a good person, and you're going to be a good father."

He hugged her just a little tighter. They stayed in comfortable silence for a time before Jen announced in a tired voice, "I think I'm going to take a nap."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Jen nodded sleepily before resting her head back onto his chest. "Wake me up when it's Christmas," she mumbled.

"I will," he promised, thought he intended to let her get as much sleep as she possibly could.

Waiting. That was all they could do for now. Monday was the due date, but there was no sure way to predict exactly when Jen would go into labor. He wasn't biased either way for a girl or a boy (though he wouldn't mind having a Daddy's Little Girl, and he knew just how much trouble boys could get into), but he was thankful they had names picked for either outcome. Their contact list of people who needed to be called when the baby was finally born was complete as well, so that was one less thing to worry about.

For now, waiting was all they could do.

*~*~*~*~*

_December 25_

"Not yet, Jeff," she sighed into her phone. "I'm waiting, but still no go."

"Tha's a damn shame," he said back in his Southern drawl she loved listening to. He did sound disappointed. He was really hoping his little "nephew" or "niece" would be born on Christmas so he would have the excuse to spoil the little brat or princess.

"It's still early. It could happen today. My Braxton Hicks have been getting worse that the last couple of days."

"Ya got some names picked, rite?" he asked, his tone innocent, but Jen knew what he was trying to get out of her.

"Jeffery Nero Hardy!" she scolded with a laugh. "You'll just have to wait like every body else."

"Aw, but Jennah," he whined. "What harmed would it do?"

"Sorry, Jeff, but I'm not telling you," she answer, still smiling. Talking to Jeff was a great way to help her relax. Her constant backache was worse than ever and those stupid fake contractions weren't getting any better. Surprised by a sudden painfully one, she gasped out.

"Wha's wrong?" Jeff asked.

"Just another Braxton Hick…just hurt a little more than usual," she answered. "Hopefully that means soon."

"Maybe," he agreed. "Well, Ah'd love ta talk ta ya some more, but Ah bettah go and wake up Matty or he'll sleep awl damn day."

"Go get him!" she commanded with a giggled. "And tell him Merry Christmas for me."

"Will do," he responded before saying his goodbyes and hanging up.

Jen set her phone down on the coffee table before sinking down onto the couch. She winced as she felt another contraction, but unlike her earlier contractions, it didn't stop almost as soon as it began. It lasted for almost a good half a minute.

"Shit," she cursed before shouting, "PHIL!"


	20. Chapter 20

This is it. The final chapter...at least for now. We all know how I am with sequels (and three-quels...four-quels...and five-quels). Please offer me some constructive criticism. I thrive on it. Maybe someday I'll go back and actually re-vamp this. Who knows? And please let me know what you think of the baby name. Maybe I'll respond back and tell you where I came up with the name.

**Killing Loneliness**

_December 25, 2009_

_Lockport, IL_

_Palos Community Hospital, Maternity Center_

Philip Brooks paced nervously back and forth in the waiting room reserved for the families of those delivering. Jen had told him to give her a little space—his nervous, frantic energy was sending her jive all out of skew, and she desperately needed all of her jive in skew.

It was just hard for him to stand and watch her in so much obvious pain—even a simpleton knew labor was long, arduous, and painful—and not be able to do anything to help her. She had been in labor for over eight hours, and she still wasn't fully dilated.

He wasn't alone in the family room. His parents and sisters were there as well, thought they kindly let him work off his panic and worry with his back and forth, rapid pacing. His father Jack sat with his back to the corner, facing his younger son. Punk and his father's relationship was always a strained one, but that didn't mean he didn't love his father. Though he loved his father, he wanted a better relationship with his own child, soon to come into the world.

His mother and sisters were a lot more at ease as they chattered and joked together over a few magazines. His sisters even bet on the baby's gender.

The door to the family lounge opened and in stepped the very familiar form of Nicole, and following her was Alex. "Punk, you son of a bitch," Nikki snarled as she stalked up to him. "What the hell took you so long to call, huh?"

"Hey, hey!" he said, cutting Nicole off before she could really start getting fired up. "Jen didn't want to call anyone right away, and since she's the one actually in labor, I figured what she wants is slightly more important than calling you."

Nikki didn't look pleased, but she didn't press the matter.

Alex, on the other hand, smiled at him warmly before asking, "How's our Jennah doin'?"

"She's still in the first stage. It could be a couple hours yet," he said, running his fingers through his jet black hair. Never in his life had he felt this completely shit-yourself-terrified and simultaneously this mind-blowingly-excited. It was an interesting combination, but it left him feeling vaguely nauseous. It wasn't pleasant, but compared to what Jennifer was going through, it seemed like a treat.

His girlfriend was having a baby—his baby, _their_baby. He didn't know whether he should shout, laugh, or cry and his body (so use to being in motion) wasn't sure if it wanted to run or jump up and down. Logically he knew that millions—even trillions—of women had given birth before, but he couldn't help reacting like the baby was the first ever baby. Egotistical, yes, but he felt entitled to worry and pace and rave.

"Punkie, don't make me have the doctors spike your Pepsi with something to help you relax," Nicole warned as he started pacing again.

He glared at her and flipped a rather rude hand gesture at her before going right back to pacing. His mother had seen the gesture, but she did not express her usually displeasure—she had given up trying to break her son of his habit.

"I say that, you know."

"Jen?" Punk asked in surprise as he turned toward the now open door where his girlfriend stood, her IV stand just behind her. "What the fuck are you doing out of bed?" he demanded, quickly striding over to her.

"I'm taking a little talk while I still can. It helps," she said simple. "My nurse actually encourages movement, and since I can't get an epi," she started with a slight snarl and roll of her eyes, "I'll take what I can get." Due to the possible complications involved and the knowledge of the pregnancy Jen had terminated in her teens as a result of a heart malformation, her doctor didn't want to give her an epidural and risk missing key warning signs.

"Oh," was all he could say.

Jen turned her attention to the other inhabitants of the room. "Hello," she greeted, wincing trough another contraction. "I wish I could say I'm happy to see you all bur in five minutes I'll probably be cursing all of your existences," she offered as a little joke.

"Bambi says she loves you and wishes she was here," Nicole said with a smile in response to Jen's greeting.

"I wish she was here, too," Jen answered. She took a few waddled steps past Punk into the room, dragging her IV behind her, and leaned against a wall. She knew if she sat down she wasn't likely to get back up. She took a deep breath and sighed. No matter what position she was in, she was extremely uncomfortable. The walk had helped a little to relieve some of the discomfort, but it left her feeling even more exhausted. She rested for a moment against the cool paneling lining the room before glancing at her boyfriend. He looked a little less panicked than earlier, which was a very good thing. He had stopped pacing at least.

"If you want to, you can go with me," she said to him. Punk smiled softly at her and closed the small space separating them. Being careful of her IV, he pulled her a little closer and held her against his chest. He kissed the crown her head and took a deep breath of her sweet-smelling hair. Her hair was back in a messy ponytail and she didn't have any make up on, but he didn't care. To him, she would never be any less then completely beautiful.

"I love you," he told her quietly.

"Me, too," she responded, smiling brightly before frowning as another contraction struck painfully. She groaned and said, "I think I should get back to my room…now."

*~*~*~*~*

_Thursday, June 4, 2009_

The fucking stick read positive.

Impossible.

It was fucking positive.

Completely shocked, she dropped the plastic home pregnancy test onto the hard floor of the cold bathroom. Her knees shook and she felt like she was going to throw up again. Weakly, she sunk down onto the closed lid of the toilet seat.

"I'm pregnant," she said aloud, trying to make it more real for herself. "I'm pregnant," she repeated, feeling again like she was going to be sick. It was un-fucking-believable…impossible.

She hadn't been feeling well for a while, but she hadn't actually believed she could really be pregnant. It just was not a possibility. The only reason she had even bought a pregnancy test was…well, she wasn't even sure. She had waited to take the damn thing until after Punk left for the airport. She really didn't want him to know she was taking it.

Actually, this wasn't the first test she had taken. After the first test over three hours previous read positive, she had rushed to the corner drug store and bought two more tests—just to be sure. A false positive was possible, but what were the chance of having three false positives right in a row? Very slim.

"Shit," she cursed as she felt tears well up in her eyes. She was feeling such a wide range of emotions that all she wanted to do was break down and cry. Fear and excitement tumbled around her stomach in an out of control brouhaha. Her hands shock along with her knees.

There was a sudden knock on the bathroom door that shattered the impersonal silence of the room. Through the door she could hear Nicole shouting, "Jen, we're going to be late!"

"Fuck," she hissed before responding back louder," I just need a minute!" Urgently she grabbed the tests and the boxes and wrapped them up in the drug store bag before burying them in the bottom of the bathroom trash can so Nicole wouldn't find them. Just as quickly she grabbed a hair tie and pulled her hair up in a haphazard ponytail. Trying to make herself appear totally together, she grabbed her black kohl pencil and redid her smudged eyeliner.

She couldn't afford to think about the pregnancy test—she had work to get to.

*~*~*~*~*

_December 25, 2009_

Nicole glared at the nondescript door to the family lounge. For the last five hours she had sat next to her fiancé waiting for news of any kind of development in Jen's progress. She was well aware that labors weren't quick, but she was becoming frustrated with the waiting.

The Brooks were a pleasant family for the most part. She felt of vibe of some sort of guilt coming from Punk's father, but she didn't ask him about it. The women of Punk's family sat together and shared stories about a young Phil, but surprisingly Nicole didn't try and gain any black mail stories. She was too busy anticipating the impending birth.

Sure, she was a little upset Jen didn't want anyone other than Phil and the hospital staff in the room as she had the baby, but that was Jen's right. She could understand that.

Still, it still hurt a little.

The door opened and in stepped a woman Nicole had never before seen personally, but she had seen enough pictures and heard enough about her to know instantly who the woman dressed in a designer pant-suit was. The woman's auburn hair was pulled into a sophisticated twist and the haunty expression on her face showed she was accustomed to getting what she wanted. This was Marie Anderson, formerly Marie McCorvik…Jennifer's mother.

Neither Alex nor Punk's family knew who this woman was, and so they were stunned when Nicole jumped to her feet and snarled at the woman, "What in hell's name are you doing here?"

"Temper. Do I know you? Oh yes, you're that little grunge rat Bambi use to marauder around with. Nicole, correct?" Marie asked, though she knew perfectly well who she was.

"I asked you what you're doing here," Nicole reminded, her eyes narrowing. "Jen told you she doesn't want you near her or the baby, so you've got no fucking business being here!"

"I have every right to be here. I'm going to be a grandmother after all," the woman answered, revealing her relation to Jen to Punk's family. "And I may have given up against my ex-husband, but I will not give up on my grandson. You can tell my ungrateful daughter that. Better yet, I'll tell her myself," she threatened.

"I think," came the gruff voice of Jack Brooks from across the room as he stood from his chair, "that it's time for you to go. I suggest you leave my son and Jennifer alone."

The room was filled with a tense energy. Alex had placed himself in a position to defend his girlfriend should something bubble over. Punk's mother and two sisters were watching Marie and Jack glare at each other across the room. Marie's lips pulled into a tight, unnatural smile on her too-smooth face. "That tart can't take care of herself, let alone a baby," she remarked coldly. Dismissing everyone else, she turned and left the room with a rapid rapping of her ridiculous high heels. The door closed behind her with an echoing thud.

"Pleasant bitch," Jack decreed as he sat back done and returned his attention back to the news he had been watching.

"How'd she fin' out Jennah was havin' the baby?" Alex asked Nicole softly as she sighed.

"I don't know, but I don't think we should tell Jen about her mother stopping by."

*~*~*~*~*

_Thursday, June 4, 2009_

About nine hours later after working an eight hour shift, Jennifer was exhausted. Her feet and ankles ached from standing in her heels all night and she was almost completely emotionally drained. Thankfully Nicole elected to spend the night with Alex, so Jen didn't have to worry about her realizing something was wrong.

Of course the apartment was dark and silent when she got back. She didn't bother to turn on any lights as she walked right to the bathroom, only pausing to toss her purse onto her chair in the living room. She pulled the door shut behind her and flicked the light switch on for the light over the vanity mirror before she began stripping off her clothes, starting with her shoes. Once she was naked she leaned over and turned the knobs in the shower before stepping inside the bathtub and pulling the curtain closed.

The water was hot on her skin—a welcome change from the general coldness she had been feeling for hours. For a moment Jen stood in the spray of the water and just let it flow over her. Soon thought she reached up and undid the tie holding up her dampened hair. The water running down her face was tinged black form the eyeliner and mascara she had been wearing and didn't bother to wash off.

A thousand thoughts were running through her head as she washed away the mark of the day from her hair and skin. At one point tears were running down her face as much as the water was. Feeling lost and isolated, one of her hands settled over the bare skin of her navel. She looked down at the spot and resolved that if she was really pregnant, then she was going to keep her baby…somehow and way.

The hot water eventually turned cold. Numbly she turned the knobs the opposite way this time and plucked a towel from the rack by the tub. She wrapped it around herself before opening the curtain.

The glass of the mirror was fogged over from the steam of the shower. Little beads of moisture left streaks on the cool surface. It was a funny thing to focus on, but it was better then obsessing over the fetus apparently growing inside of her. Trying to maintain focus not on being pregnant, she seized a comb and ritually worked at the tangles in her hair.

Distracting herself worked from a short time. Almost as soon as she left the bathroom, her cell phone went off. Her stomach sunk as "This Fire Burns" played, signifying the last person she wanted to talk to at that moment was calling. Despite this, she still hurried to het her phone anyway.

"Hey," she answered as naturally as she could.

"Hey, Babe," the voice of her boyfriend answered from the tiny speaker by her ear. "Did I wake you up?" he asked, sounding apologetic.

"No, no," she answered softly, pulling her hair to the side with one hand before sinking down onto the couch. "I just got out of the shower now," she continued. She could easily envision the slightly leering grin on his face. Guilt gnawed at her. She knew she needed to tell him she was quite possibly pregnant, but she really didn't want to tell him over the phone, especially since she didn't even know how she really felt…other than nauseous.

"Sorry I missed it," he said back.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before," she reminded with a little laugh she didn't have to fake.

"You've clearly never watched yourself take your clothes off…or get all wet," he responded, no doubt still grinning.

"You perv!" she shot back.

"Only for you," he answered, surprising her with one of his moments of sweetness. "I miss you," he continued. "And I really, really hope you're coming for the pay-per-view Sunday."

Fore a few weeks she had been going with him for Smackdown tapings and making appearances as his girlfriend, and for the first time in a while she had elected no to go with him. He had been trying to convince her to let him buy her a ticket to fly down.

She sighed and bit her lip. "Okay, I'll come."

*~*~*~*~*

_December 25, 2009_

_Near Midnight_

Jen's hair was a mess and damp thought with sweat, but he didn't notice. He sat next to her bed in the uncomfortable hospital chair, but he didn't care about the discomfort. The only thing he noticed was the infant in his arms.

After hours of agonizing labor on Jen's part and anxious worry on his, they had a son…a beautiful, perfect son.

He finally understood what people meant when they said the love for a child was the greatest sort of love. Despite having only seen his son scream and sleep, Punk loved him more deeply than he ever thought he could. He had obsessed over, dreamed about, and feared the moment he would first get to hold his child for weeks, but nothing he imagined compared to what he felt when his son was in his arms for the first time. There just were no words that could even begin to rationalize what he felt.

Jen had screamed at him, threatened him with bodily harm, and she almost crushed a few of the carpals in his wrist as the doctor directed her to breath and to push. Still, he hadn't let go of her hand or thought about leaving her during the worst of the process. What kind of man would he be if had?

Now here was their reward for all of their panic, worry, and stress. The newborn infant was resting serenely in the arms of his father. In the bed beside them the new mother slept just as deeply, thoroughly exhausted and sorer than she had ever before been. The baby was so tiny that Punk was almost afraid he'd crush his child if he wasn't gentle enough. Honest to whatever higher power existed, he had never before seen a more stunning child, though logically he knew that no new born was a pretty sight. Still, he was amazed by the little tuff of downy black hair and immense blue eyes his son had. Of course, those eyes could always change to another color as he grew.

Jen was the first to hold the baby after the doctor affirmed that he was healthy. At first she had seemed almost reluctant to hold him, but soon she cuddled her son to her breast and within half an hour of given birth to him was successfully breastfeeding. Before long the exhaustion finally got to her and she feel asleep.

The baby had fussed a little once his mother was asleep, and so Punk picked him up and settled with him into the hospital chair, tucking his son back into his baby blue blanket to keep him warm like the nurse had instructed. For the last hour Punk had sat holding him, and he had no desire to put him down into his hospital crib anytime soon.

His little family was complete. Punk smiled at his sleeping girlfriend and regarded her with a deeper and more profound respect. Soon she and he would be able to go home, taking with them little Rhett Asher Brooks.


End file.
